


Even in the Wizarding World This isn't Normal

by sweettartsmeetdots



Series: Anguis fulminis [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, I will mark these sections, M/M, Oh my God they're starting puberty, Parseltongue, Slytherin Harry, drarry but not officially, wink wink, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettartsmeetdots/pseuds/sweettartsmeetdots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chamber is opened and our Golden Boy seems twenty times more guilty because of his house colors. Draco must make a name he can be proud of, and the snakes basically run the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for waiting during my break between books, I hope you guys love this. Some triggering topics in the first chapter, but I have put a beginning and ending marker for the descriptive parts. I hope you guys enjoy this!

“Boy! Get down here!” a rough voice shouts up the stairs, and I can practically see the angry red tone of my uncle’s face.

 

Walking down the stairs as slowly as I dare, I walk into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia is placing maraschino cherries around a circular frosted cake, smacking Dudley’s hands from the treat every few seconds. She looks up when I enter, her lip curling back in distaste.

 

“He’s in there. Vernon, dear.” The large man turns around from the small mirror over the mantle where he had been adjusting his tie, his sand coloured mustache shaking slightly as he works his mouth, trying to find words that are foul enough for his nephew but not so cutting that I can perform magic against him. The threat of magic has been the only thing keeping me safe this summer, and more than once I lament over leaving Ikarus with Draco until I’m home.

 

Some decent company would be lovely. It would also be nice if one of my friends bothered to write to me, or even my own dad. I suppose one can’t have it all, though I did expect Dad to at least have to write because of the terms in the adoption papers, maybe he doesn’t care?

 

“Listen. This could very well be the deal of my career, and I’ll not have a little bastard like you mucking it up, you hear! Let’s go over our roles, shall we, Petunia dear when the Mason’s arrive, you will be-” Vernon starts, before Petunia cuts him off, waltzing into the sitting room and looking more like a show horse than a dancer.

 

“In the lounge, waiting to welcome them graciously to our home.” she supplies, and he nods with a smile.

 

“Right, and Dudley, you will be?” Turning to my large cousin, he gives off a smirk that I suppose is meant to look charming but only enhances the many chins hiding his neck.

 

“I’ll be waiting to open the door.” Vernon nods once more, and the three of them look over to me with varying shades of dislike, moving closer as if to cage me in. I feel every instinct I have tell me to run, to avoid their sharp hands and nasty words. But I stay firm, I have magic. I am strong.

 

“Excellent Dudders. And you?” He growls, and I gather my courage, timing my words with the noise of a car pulling into the driveway.

 

“I’ll be in your room raiding through your things and keeping quiet enough so your boss can listen to you droning on.” I snarl, and he turns an off purple colour. He starts to move forward, when the doorbell rings. I’ve decided if he’s going to hit me, which he inevitably will seeing as he has the patience of a goldfish, I may as well make it count and say what I think.

 

“Dammit, boy, get to your room before I strangle you!” he growls, before turning to the mirror to fuss more. I go upstairs, closing the door to my room just as the front door opens. Turning to move towards my bed, I jump when I see a small house elf jumping on it.

 

“Harry Potter sir! What an honour it is sir, Dobby is hearing so much about you sir-” it begins to speak, in a high pitched voice. He- at least, I think it’s a he is dressed in much dirtier and poorer clothes than the houselves that work at Hogwarts. I consider letting him keep making so much noise, but I decide that after the comment I made it’ll be hard to avoid Uncle Vernon this time.

 

“Shh, please. Hello, um, what are you doing in my bedroom?” I ask, and he stops to let me speak before starting up again.

 

“Sir! I am sorry, I realize this is most impolite, I really shouldn’t be here since master will be ever so displeased. You see, I am here to warn Harry Potter! Oh, but where do I begin?” he says, and I glance nervously to the door. It seems he only has one tone of voice.  

 

“Perhaps you could sit down, I’d like to keep quiet you see, I shouldn’t be making any noises.” I say, and I watch in horror as tears well in his tennis ball sized eyes. 

 

“S-sit down? Dobby has heard of your greatness sir, before they left… but never has a wizard asked me to sit down, as an equal!” his sobs continue, and before I can reach out to him he has grabbed hold of one of my heavier books and promptly begun beating his head with it.

 

Moving forward and yanking the book from him, I tug him towards the bed, setting him in the middle and clearing away any more books he could use to hurt himself.

 

“Why were you going to warn me, Dobby?” I ask, and he perks up considerably.

 

“Harry Potter musn’t go back to Hogwarts, sir. It isn’t safe!” he squeaks, and I briefly register loud laughter downstairs.

 

“What? No, I have to go. Hogwarts is my home! I have friends there and-” he cuts me off, grinning.

 

“Friends that don’t even write to you, sir?” he asks, and I pause, running through our conversation.

 

“Hang on, I never said anything about any letters.” I say, and his ears fall down slightly, his eyes wide as he realizes he messed up. He reaches inside of the pillowcase that forms a toga for him, pulling a thick stack of envelopes out from the folds.

 

“Harry Potter must understand, Dobby was only trying to help.” he says weakly, and I clench my jaw.

 

“Dobby, give me those letters right now.” I say, and he yelps as his hand moves forward, against his will but a direct command nevertheless. I snatch them up before he can protest, and he stomps his foot in frustration.

 

“Dobby is sorry, sir. But this must be done.” he says vaguely as I tear into the letters, and when I look up he’s out the door and running down the stairs as fast as he can, hitting the wall in his attempt to turn on the landing.

 

Each bang against a wall and stomp on the floor makes me wince, I’m never going to eat again!

 

Dobby reaches the distorted glass door leading into the kitchen, where Petunia’s proud dessert stands, and he turns back to me sorrowfully before snapping his fingers. Horrified, I watch as the cake begins to float, moving ever so slowly forward. Perhaps, if I can avoid using magic and just use my hands, I can grab it before they see it?

 

I creep around the corner after the cake, and three pairs of eyes belonging to the Dursley’s fix on me in mute fury, and I hear another snap and a loud crack before the cake falls on Mrs. Mason’s head.

 

I don’t hear Vernon’s excuses of my being disturbed, or Petunia’s shrill apologies. I turn tail and sprint back up to my room, only to be stopped in the entryway of the house, a mouth shaped emerald letter floating in the air before me. A pristine, female voice calls out, clear as day,

 

“Mr. Harry James Potter. Today at seven thirty two and fourteen seconds you breached wizarding law 13, section B line 20, ‘No underage magic is to be performed save for the case of self defense outside of the registered school of attendance.’ This will be your only warning, if you are to break this law once more a Ministry official will arrive to snap your wand, and you will hereby be expelled from your school of attendance. Have a great day.

Sincerely Susan Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

 

Gulping, I turn to see that Vernon has followed me into the hall, and he’s heard every word. His grin is nasty, and I wish against everything that I had just stayed in my room, listened to Dobby. Vernon turns back to the room with the guests, putting on a show as they try to leave but he insists on some ice cream from the freezer instead.

 

Running into my room, I know that I can’t lock the door since it locks on the outside and there’s no way any more magic will be performed here tonight. Hiding in the corner of my room until the Mason’s have left, I am able to read a few of my letters before the sound of footsteps is outside of my door, and I shove them underneath a loose floorboard.

 

**(could be triggering)**

 

Standing as the door busts open, I only have time to bring my hands up before Vernon is striking me, and I fall against my dresser with a gasp. His feet replace fists, and I am not sure if I am crying or not as different bursts of pain bloom all over my body, no matter how much I curl up. The blows don’t lessen, they seem to only grow stronger as they land on already bruised skin.

 

I try to breathe, his foot found its way to my chest and ribs and it feels so tight in here but I know I mustn’t stretch out for that would only offer up an easier target. I don’t know anymore what is sweat, what could be blood or what is my own tears, and when the hits finally taper off, I lift my head warily.

 

Big mistake.

 

A meaty hand snatches the collar of my shirt, yanking me upwards and I cry out as the other hand rips my glasses off, the dull thud ringing through the room as they are tossed aside. He grips my hair, pulling so that I am forced to maintain eye contact with him.

 

“You’re going to wish you were dead, scum.” he snarls, before something, a fist or a rock as I can’t tell the difference, lands on the side of my face, making me fall onto the floor hitting my skull on the edge of the nightstand on the way down. I feel a soft fuzzy fatigue sweep over me, and I willingly give into unconsciousness, silently agreeing with my uncle’s words.

  
  


A small can is shoved through the cat flap installed on my bedroom door, tipping over and spilling half the contents before I can scramble to pick it up. Sighing, I brace myself for the nasty taste before downing the cold soup broth. Choking on the stale texture, I set the can by the few others that have accumulated over the week and begin to build a small tower. I ended up eating the entirety of the two apples I’ve gotten, core and all, which I only get when Dudley takes a single bite then abandons it. My mouth tastes sticky, and I wonder if I yelled loud enough Petunia would cave and give me water.

 

However, the last time I did that I may have gotten water, but I also had to deal with my uncle when he got home. Not worth it.

 

The room smells foul, as the door hasn’t been opened since the night Dobby showed up, which I estimate was about two weeks ago. I haven’t been let out, as my uncle saw fit to install bars on my windows and the cat flap as the solution to feed me. I can only a ssume Dobby is still writing to Dad for me, since  he knew that had to be kept up. From the letters I snatched I gather quite a bit of information.

 

**(Whoop all done, just know he's hungry and they are being horrid)**

 

Dobby kept it short and sweet with dad, using only a few need to know details that made it seem authentic enough. He didn’t bother responding to my friends on the other hand, and their letters grow more angry.

 

Hermione only sent two, seeming more hurt than anything at the lack of response but telling me all about her trip to France with her parents. Pansy has sent at least a dozen, each going from threats to teary apologies and updates on her plans for courting Hermione. I’ll get chewed out by her, no doubt. Especially since I will never tell her the truth about why I couldn’t respond.

 

Draco’s are the hardest to read, and I realize how much I miss my partner in crime. His second letter upsets me though.

 

**Harry,**

 

**You’re a bloody git for not responding to my last letter, but I have lots to tell you so I’ll let it go for now.**

 

**Lucius, that is to say, my father has finished his sentence in Azkaban. Mother has assumed all these years that he died there, we don’t request updates and so the dementors don’t give them. He sent a letter, a bunch of rubbish about wanting to make things right.**

 

**He is visiting this weekend, and he’s made it clear that if he can’t be with us he is still taking the Malfoy name and fortune, and properly cutting both me and mum off. Not sure where she wants to go, she has plenty of inheritance and status on her own but I love the Manor.**

 

**She’s actually going to try and be civil, a waste of time if you ask me. She wants us to be a happy family as much as he does, and so naturally I have to play house with my death eater father and wonderfully blind mother.**

 

**I’ll keep you updated, Ikarus is in love with the grounds and he’s safe. I hope you are as well.**

 

**Draco**

 

However, they only progress to get worse. He grows to hate his father more in the next few letters, and the last one says that he and Narcissa have left once Lucius got a bit violent over keeping Draco. He said he may be out of contact for a while, and that was the last letter for a week.

 

I am extremely worried for Draco and his mum, what if they hadn’t found a place to go? Surely dad would have taken them if nothing else? But this Lucius guy seems dangerous, I truly hope he doesn’t try to follow them. Draco had briefly explained that death eaters were Voldemort’s followers back in the day, and that they actually enjoyed torture.

 

**(Once more, sorry friends)**

 

After a few more hours, I decide that it actually is worth the risk, and I shout for water until a cup of warm tap water is shoved unceremoniously through the flap. I gulp it down greedily, to focused on the lovely lovely water to recognize the stomps up the stairs, or the clinking of my door being unlocked. Vernon snatches the cup from my hands, the glass shattering underneath me as he knocks me around, taking his anger from the work day and his family out on me. With so little food, I haven’t managed to heal from last week, so I should black out quicker this time. What a treat.

 

I will not cry, I will not let him win. I will not cry, I will not let him win. I will not cry-

 

But I won’t fight back either. I can’t, my only home is Hogwarts and if I am expelled then I’m done for. Vernon eventually tires, and I stay where I am, uncomfortable but once I move pain shoots throughout my body.

 

**(All done dudes)**

 

Just as I drift off to sleep, a low rumbling rouses me, seeming to come from outside. It sounds like the engine of an old car, not unusual for a neighborhood. I close my eyes again, but the rumbling only grows closer and closer, until it seems to be right outside my window. Sitting up slowly, I blink against the sudden light flooding into my room through the window, the light turning away asa large hunk of metal seems to hover outside.

 

“Harry! Get your stuff, come on.” a familiar voice calls, and I jerk upright, cursing as I almost vomit at the sudden pain. I can’t afford to lose my food, I need to toughen up. Hogwarts softened me.

 

I move slowly towards the window, and I grin at the sight of my favourite twins in the world. They’re in a car, floating just outside my window with matching looks of mischief. I laugh at the absurdness of it all, the world of magic never failing to amaze me. George unbuckles his seat belt, leaning forward from the passenger seat which is closest to the window.

 

“You look like shite, but that’s none of my business. Freddie, help the lad inside while I collect his things. Where are they, Harry?” George asks.

 

He pulls out a thin black knife, one I recognize from an ad in the Prophet that can cut through any material. George sets to work sawing through the bars on my window as though they’re made of butter, and he drops the severed pane on the bush below my second story window. I wait for the loud noise, but the glass and metal falls and lands almost silently.

 

He drops into my room, the car bobbing as his weight leaves it and he scans the room choosing not to comment on the smell, my state or the crude decoration. Instead, he turns to grin at me while pulling out a series of more black metal tools, for picking muggle locks and more.

 

“Where is your trunk then?” he asks with a grin, and I try to send one back. They were locked in my old cupboard, and as George unlocks the many chains on my door with no problem I decide against telling him that they're a lost cause. This is the Weasley twins I’m talking about.

 

“Cupboard under the stairs. Can you please take me to my dad’s house?” I ask, and Fred nods from the car, grinning. By the time I am seated inside of the floating car, honestly I’ve learned not to question the wizarding world anymore, George is back with my things. He packs them into the trunk neatly, and Fred maneuvers the car back around with me in the back seat so that George can climb back in.

 

They don’t bother using the seatbelts, obviously comfortable with their own reckless driving but I click mine in place to be safe. Soft music floats through the static filled radio, and the wizard announces a witch named Celestina Warbeck before the song starts.

 

“How did you know where I was? I mean, thank you, but how?” I ask, ignoring the stupid crack in my voice. If they would give me water more often, stupid Dursley’s. Didn’t even know how to cover their own tracks.

 

“Hermione, actually. She writes to us often, and she mentioned a worry that you hadn’t been writing back. We are quite perceptive, and knew you didn’t like your relatives at best. But, all good now, yea? Bit of fun, is all, breaking out of the burrow and using dad’s car.” George says easily, and I smile. They saved me, and they aren’t pressing for details or demanding answers. They’re wonderful.

 

“The burrow?” I ask, and Fred laughs. Looking out the window, I realize that the car must have a spell on it because it look invisible on the outside, giving me a bizarre feeling of floating through air in a seat alone.

 

“Our house. We’ll be stopping there on the way, not sure where your dad lives but you can floo over, or we can send off a patronus for him to apparate and get you. Not sure which is softer on the body. Hopefully Mum will be asleep still, I know Dad will help us out. Or Charlie, he’s home for a few days.” he chats, and I settle into a comfortable flow of them doing most of the talking and me listening.

 

Watching the ground below us, I sigh in relief. I know I’ll probably have to return to the Dursley’s to finish out my six weeks, which is half over. Hopefully I’ll be able to hold the threat of the Weasley’s over them. The houses below us begin to change, growing more bizarre and distinctly magical the closer we get the the burrow. When Fred begins to slow the car down and descend, I grin at the wonderful house we are pulling up to, stacked and twisting and absolutely screaming magic. Garden gnomes scuttle through the gardens bursting with food and flowers, a shed full of broomsticks against the side of the house.

 

Fred parks and exits the car, taking my things with him into the house before I can protest. I follow him, not really sure what to do. Do you invite yourself in after being saved and brought to someone’s house the first time? I briefly register that this is Ron’s house, but even he doesn’t seem so bad right now. He’s related to these two, after all.

 

The door squeaks as we open it, and Fred winces as though the noise will give us away. The twins step expertly around every creaky floorboard, but I seem to hit them all with my clumsy, unsure footing.  

 

Fred disappears to get Charlie, and George pours tea from a kettle he explains is constantly hot and full. I thank him, gulping the hot tea hungrily until he is offering me a second cup. I finish this one as well when Fred shows back up.

 

“Charlie is coming.” Fred says, coming back down the stairs. He takes tea for himself, and a third Weasley lumbers down the stairs, with short cropped hair and interesting spikes in his ears. He has numerous scars and burns across his arms, and he looks for lack of a better word,  _ cool _ .

 

He nods in greeting before pulling out a stout wand, focusing before he casts the spell.

 

“Expecto Patronum! Severus Snape, Harry is at the Burrow. Come as soon as you can to take him home, if there is a delay he is welcome here.” he says, and I blush realizing how much of an inconvenience this must be, but my attention is quickly instead on the air before Charlie.

 

A silvery dragon has erupted from the tip of his wand, listening to his words before flying through the open window with a flourish. The room feels warmer, softer somehow and the feeling lessens since the dragon is gone but still lingers.

 

I smile softly, excited to see Dad and thankful to be going home. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry returns to his old habits and Severus gets ready to parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoy this chapter. I know its slightly a cliffhanger? But I'll be updating tomorrow so that will be up soon.

Standing in the Weasley’s kitchen, I laugh as Fred and George find a stash of chocolate in a nondescript cooking pot and pass it around. 

 

We make conversation for a few minutes, and I learn that Charlie is a dragontamer in Romania, explaining his ‘patronus’. The career seems extremely interesting, and I ask so many questions that he laughs and says I should write to him so that he can answer them in more detail. I nod, remembering his full name to give to the owl when Severus apparates into the dining room with a crack, startling me.

 

He is wearing black sleep clothes, and I get the impression that he jumped out of bed the moment he got the message. He hasn’t cut his hair any since I’ve seen him, and the only thing that seems to be different is the slight shadow on his chin.

 

His expression is unreadable, and so I try for a less serious approach. Let him know I’m fine. 

 

“Hey dad.” I offer a grin, and he is across the room in a flash hugging me tightly. 

 

I wince, and he let’s go immediately after realizing I’m hurt. He turns to the Weasleys, and saying hello to each before thanking them and promising to send word once I’ve had some rest. The twins wave a cheery goodbye, and Charlie reminds me to write if I have more questions. 

 

Gripping Dad’s arm tightly, I swallow as the suffocating feeling of side along apparation takes over, before I am in the living room of our house. The room looks the same as it used to, if a little more clean. The overstuffed leather couches, the bookshelves hiding any trace of actual wall and the large fireplace roaring with everlasting fire. A maroon traveling cloak is thrown over the back of an armchair that Dad didn’t have before. 

 

Dad calls up the stairs for someone, then turns back to me and carefully places me on the couch. Allowing him to move me if only to make him feel better, I sink into the cushions and smile lazily as the warmth of the fire sweeps over me. Dad works to find words for a moment, and I wait patiently until he speaks.

 

“Harry, I- Ikarus will need to heal this, my magic will not work fast or well enough.” he says, apologetically. I shake my head, wishing that guilty look in his eye would go away. This isn’t his fault, no more than it’s Hagrid’s dog Fang’s fault. 

 

“I’m fine, really. Just a bit banged up, but don’t feel bad you can’t heal me.” I assure him, and his lips go thin. I briefly register people coming into the room before Dad’s hand is around my arm, and I can tell he’s about to prove a point. I don’t know why he says I’m stubborn, I’m nothing compared to him. 

 

“Harry, I can wrap my forefinger and thumb around your bicep. You are more bruise than skin and you have a bloodied and cut up leg and a swollen eye. You are starving and much closer to death than you realize, because of those people- you are not fine. This is not okay, or normal or deserved in any way. They will pay for this.” he says, and I refuse to meet his eyes. I don’t need the speech, like I’m some broken toy or kicked puppy. I want  to just pretend it didn’t happen and be healed already so I can sleep. 

 

“I’m stronger than you think. I know they shouldn’t, but I’m tough. I can handle them and I don’t need your pity or a speech, it isn’t helping. I just want to eat some crisps and sleep.” I say, and he sighs. He turns away, obviously intending to continue the conversation but not having the patience for it now. 

 

“Draco, Ikarus please.” he says, facing the corner of the room. My head snaps up, and I realize that Narcissa and Draco are both standing there, eyes wide but otherwise the very picture of calm under pressure. Shit, this won’t go away easily. I already get odd looks for my scar and name, now those closest to me are going to begin to act strange. 

 

Draco walks over, settling Ikarus on my shoulder and asking him to heal me, trying to meet my eyes. I turn to look away, ashamed that he had to see me weak. I hate the Dursley’s, I just want to be normal and happy. The familiar weight of Ikarus on my shoulder is soothing, and I accidently meet the stormy grey eyes reminding me of ice before I look back at my lap. 

 

“ _ Harry! Who broke you? What did they do to my wizard? Can I bite them?”  _ Ikarus rants, and I roll my eyes. He’s like an overprotective mother, who is far too excited for permission to bite someone. He begins on one arm, and I sigh in relief as the magic begins to move through me. I almost forget to respond. 

 

_ “No. I’m fine, just got into a fight. Are you okay? You’re safe and happy here?”  _ I ask, searching him for any marks and finding that he’s bigger and stronger looking. I’ve missed him. His scales are a lighter color than normal, and the milky coloring in his eye tells me that he will shed soon.  

 

_ “You are a fool, child. I am spoiled as ever with Draco and the whole time you have been starved. This will take some time.”  _ he quips, and I pause before asking a question knowing that Draco is listening to every word. He hovers behind the couch, and I can practically feel his tension. Glad to know that hasn’t been lost in the few weeks since I’ve seen him. 

 

_ “Ikarus?”  _ I ask, as he moves to the next arm, the wrist bone and elbow slowly becoming less prominent but still overtly visible as he tries to replace the nutrients I’ve been lacking. While I feel slightly more energized, he can’t return me to my original weight. I’ll just have to eat tons and play quidditch, what a shame. 

 

_ “Yes?”  _

 

_ “Can I ask an odd question?”  _ I ask, as he wraps around my bloodied leg, healing it slower than my arms but thankfully getting rid of the cuts from the water glass completely. My pant leg stays torn open, but over soft, healed skin. Slightly raised scars remain, probably because they tried to heal on their own before I could magically heal them. Those ugly things will never leave. 

 

_ “You already have idiot.”  _ he says, sliding to the other leg and healing the few bruises there. I shift my leg suddenly when his tongue tickles my skin, and one of his teeth grazes me. He heaves a snakey sigh before healing that as well, and moving on.  

 

_ “Whatever. Our, erm, secret. It’s still been kept? Any developments?”  _ I ask, trying to keep it as vague as possible. He moves on to my ribs, and I feel my lungs open up as I take a few grateful breaths. Dad is watching me speak, and I have no doubt he’d be asking Draco to translate later on. 

 

_ “Ah. You humans, worried more over your silly love lives and not the decay of your bodies. It is safe, we will gossip more later. Shut up and let me work.”  _ He says, his tail swatting at my face while he moves to my shoulders and neck. His magic works slowly but effectively, and I grin as I feel better than ever. I try to ignore the uncomfortable bony feeling of my limbs and hips, knowing that quidditch will fix it in no time. 

 

I stand, my joints protesting along with Ikarus at the movement. Dad glares, but I ignore this and fold my arms over my chest stubbornly. 

 

“Can I possibly hope to avoid the useless talks about feelings that are sure to follow this?” I ask, rather rudely. I register in the back of my mind that I should be thanking them, but my pride has taken a blow. 

 

“No. Now I will get you fed before you sleep, and you will eat as much as you can.” Dad says, and I nod. I’ve learned that it’s no use arguing with Dad, but being a git about following directions politely is an entirely different matter.  

 

Walking into the kitchen and trying to ignore how annoyingly close they follow me, I spot a cake and remember Dobby. The odd house elf hadn’t shown up at the house again, and I was half grateful and half resentful. While it was his fault, he probably could have helped me somehow. 

 

“Dad! A house elf was in my room there, he’s been hiding my mail and ended up getting a letter sent about illegal magic at my house, they thought it was me! They can’t do that, can they? Dobby kept saying that it wasn’t safe at Hogwarts, that I couldn’t go this year. He was trying to help, but that is odd, right?” I ask forgetting my silent treatment of him, and Draco turns sharply to Narcissa. She shakes her head, and he clears his face of emotion once more. 

 

Before I can ask anymore questions, Dad insists we all talk once he’s deemed I’m back to normal. I eat silently, slightly angry that I have to wait but also partially glad I can sleep earlier. I eat as much of the food as I can, drinking a full glass of water and managing quite an average sized meal before feeling painfully full. I stand, needing to go to the bathroom from all of the tea and water, and I decide I’ll just get in the shower before Dad can tell me I’m too weak for one. 

 

The bathroom door doesn’t lock, so I just get in the shower and wait about a minute before Dad has the door flung open and wand held up. I make a point to begin humming, getting as much soap on me as possible so that he can’t force me out right away. 

 

“What are you doing?” he demands, and I begin to wash my hair. 

 

“Hunting Unicorns.” I respond, and he sighs. He must have missed me, he usually doesn’t put up with so much sass without some of his own to throw back. 

 

“You don’t have the energy for a shower, but I know you prefer them over cleaning charms so I’ll have to leave the door cracked in case you fall.” he bargains, and I nod before remembering he can’t see me. 

 

“Okay. Thanks for taking me home, do you know how long I can stay?” I ask feeling slightly guilty for the snarky behavior, and he pauses for a moment. 

 

“What do you mean?” he asks carefully, and I dread his answer. What if I am only allowed a nap before having to go back there? 

 

“Before I have to go back to finish out the six weeks.” I say, subdued. I am done with my hair and I watch bleakly as the pink water circles down the drain, growing clearer as the dried blood rinses away. My legs look weird, they were always hairy but they are more so now, and I am beginning to think the crack in my voice isn’t because of a lack of water. 

 

Gross, I don’t want to deal with puberty. From what I know, which is very little, I’ll be cranky and smell worse.

 

“You will not return there. We will figure out the legal details with Albus, but I’ll be damned if you go back this summer. I am not allowed to see them or go there myself, otherwise I’d just force them to take me as well. We’ll figure it out, but for the rest of the summer you will relax. Draco and Narcissa are staying until school as well, so you will have company. Now, you have five more minutes before I’m turning that water off.” he says, his words flawlessly changing the subject by way of a smooth segway. 

 

I turn the water off, considering this. I want to see Draco, of course, but I don’t want to see the damn pity in his eyes or deal with him walking on eggshells around me. I wonder if there is much we can do besides flying around here, maybe I can convince the adults to take us to Diagon Alley this week. 

 

Dad leaves, closing the door while I change into pajamas. Walking out into the hall, I realize that Severus has turned his study into a guest bedroom for Narcissa, and added a bed into my bedroom for Draco. When I walk in, depositing my old clothes into the trash he is laid out on what I assume is his bed, his shirt riding up to his chest as Ikarus and Scorpius fight for who gets to coil around his stomach. 

 

Plopping on the other bed, Draco cocks an eyebrow. 

 

“Why are you on my bed?” he asks, and I look over confused. I must be loopy from my exhaustion, my eyes won’t leave the extremely pale stretch of skin stretched over his belly, and I notice with delight that he has a bit of extra flesh, a far cry from my awkward bony stomach. How can skin be so white and smooth?

 

“Well, why are you on mine?” I ask tearing my eyes to the ceiling and he laughs, moving back over to lie next to me. I slide over slightly so he has more room, and Ikarus spitefully moves to coil around me instead leaving Scorpius happy. 

 

“Because you of all people know how much I like the c- word, even if I’ll never admit it.” he says, and I laugh, the c-word being cuddling. After Christmas and Easter holidays I began to realize just how much attention and reassurance Draco requires to thrive. Narcissa set the bar quite high. 

 

“Aw, the scary Draco Malfoy doesn’t want to admit he likes cuddling?” I tease, and he rolls his eyes, tugging me over to lie on him regardless. He grows serious quickly, and I wait to let him collect his thoughts.

 

“I’m not sure if I want to keep that name. Dad is cutting mum off, but she thinks I should keep it if only for the inheritance.” he speaks, and I can tell this is a sore subject for him. I hand him my glasses, hearing them land on the bedside table while I respond, our movements like clockwork even after weeks without practising our habits. We’re so cool. 

 

“Well, I suppose if the Malfoy name means something bad for you, the best way to avenge him for it is to make it a name for yourself, based on what you believe in.” I say, hoping this isn’t awful advice. I kept my name because my parents are dead, he wants to lose his name because his father is alive. 

 

“Yea. Well, we can both make names for ourselves this year. You have to live down that ugly scar of yours.” he teases, and I roll my eyes. We chat idly about the upcoming year, and I drift to sleep with the sound of english mingled with parseltongue in his regal voice. 

  
  


“Dobby is my father’s house elf. That’s one of the reasons it is so strange, he must be planning something.” Draco says as we get dressed. The two beds ended up pushed together, and I think that Dad and Narcissa are the odd ones for making such a fuss over it. If we were girls then cuddling would be no issue, I don’t see why two best friends comforting each other during mutual hard times is so weird. Maybe it’s a puberty thing.

 

“Hm. Well, whatever it was it was damn annoying. I really am sorry I didn’t write back.” I say, carding through Draco’s clothes. Dad will take me shopping for the year once I get to a more steady weight, but for now I’m wearing Draco’s old clothes that better fit my skinny frame. I don’t like feeling so small, I should be able to shoulder check Draco into the wall without a dizzy spell, dammit. 

 

“Whatever, you couldn’t write me idiot. Also, we need to pick beds closest to the fireplace this year. The dungeons are damn cold, and I also don’t want to be by the bathrooms this time. You shower damn early and I need my beauty sleep.” he says, and I laugh. I notice for the first time that Draco hasn’t been styling his hair, and the idea that he is comfortable and doesn’t care what he looks like around me puts a stupid grin on my face. 

 

“Why does your shirt smell like this?” I ask him, stepping on his ankles as he walks down the stairs and basically being as much of a bother as I can be, since that’s how I show my affection.

 

“Like what?” he asks, turning back. I consider, inhaling the fruity scent clinging to the fabric. It smells expensive, and foreign, although reminds me of the comfort in the Slytherin common room surrounded by brands and politics. 

 

“Like flowers.” I decide, and he glares at me, though it holds no mirth. 

 

“It’s called washing them, Potter. Maybe you should try it. Speaking of, you really need to cut you hair.” he says, smirking as I hold a protective hand over my wild hair. I consider hexing him, but I stop short once I remember the message from the ministry. 

 

“Dad, is it true they can snap your wand?” I ask once we come into the kitchen, jumping onto the counter and snatching bacon from the cooling rack. He gives me an unimpressed look, moving the rest to the table with his wand. I follow the food, fighting with Draco over the chair closest to the bacon. 

 

I win, and Dad begins to speak once we’re settled. 

 

“Yes, you can lose your wand and be expelled for breaking the law. However, I will be able to fix Dobby’s mistake with the Ministry and clear your record. They know who uses magic through the trace on underage wizards, which alerts them to your using magic. In homes with magical parents, they can’t tell the difference though. So you and Draco can use magic while here, if you are responsible with it.” he says, and I grin mischievously. Fred taught me a new hex that sounds interesting. 

 

“Now, I hope your schedules are cleared for today because we will be having a rather lengthy discussion.” Dad says, and Narcissa very uncharacteristically chuckles. I share nervous looks with Draco, before asking hopefully, “About Dobby?”

 

“No.” I deflate, and I can practically hear the smirk in his next words. 

 

“About puberty.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talk that only causes more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is short, I'm exhausted but I'll still be posting on schedule. hope you enjoy!

Draco chokes on his water next to me, and I try to recollect everything I know about ‘the talk’, as Blaise puts it. He didn’t elaborate outside of saying it was sufficiently awkward and embarrassing. I feel my cheeks flush when I consider the topics he had mentioned that were typically included. 

 

“Why do we have to talk about it? I can’t just read a book or something?” Draco asks, and I nod in agreement. I would much prefer a book over a verbal discussion with my dad, Narcissa and Draco. 

 

“And spare you from the embarrassing conversation? I don’t think so. Now, would you prefer if I left or stayed, dear?” Narcissa responds, and Draco pouts before asking her to leave. She does so gracefully, and a tiny bit of the tension seems to leave the room. 

 

It all returns tenfold when dad conjures a picture book. 

 

“We’ll start with the things you already know, or at least have figured out. I am afraid this particular discussion is a bit late seeing as Narcissa did not see it fit that she teach you Draco, and I doubt those muggles were keen about it either.” Dad says, and as he opens the book I wish for the floor to open up and swallow me, so I don’t have to look at the nude cartoon figure with over exaggerated body hair. 

 

“Body hair, nothing new. Witches sometimes shave their legs and armpits, though it isn’t a necessity. You will have to start shaving eventually when you get facial hair due to the Hogwarts dress code, which is rather hypocritical when one looks at the headmaster. I know it is a popular trend at the moment for seekers to shave all body hair to increase speed, so that’s up to you.” he says, and I try not to see the detailed illustration of another certain area of body hair. Well, at least now I know I’m normal.

 

Though why are pictures required for any of this? I’m beginning to think Dad is revelling in embarrassing us.  

 

“Now, you both shower regularly enough so that isn’t a change. Your voice will begin to change and therefore crack, and you’ll be having mood swings. Though considering the fact that I’m talking to Slytherin’s biggest diva and the most stubborn person on the planet, this won’t be so drastic of a change.” he says, and I am about to protest when I realize that this will only prove his point. Choosing for a sulk, I watch in horror as he turns the page, and this one is completely centered on an area I’d rather not discuss. 

 

“You’ll both be getting erections, there are a number of spells to help with this. I will provide a book on this later, there are a couple too many to ask you to memorize right now. The dorms will grow sufficiently awkward this year and maybe next, but then you will all realize it’s best to get over it and accept that you’re normal.” he continues, and I feel my stomach threaten to expose my breakfast at the sheer anxiety and social awkwardness this is causing me. 

 

I don’t want to be here right now. 

 

“You’ll be getting older and bigger, and no doubt you’ll be angry and then sad and then happy all in one class period. Just come to me if you have any questions, and know that Hogwarts and it’s staff are no strangers to any of this.” he says, and I look up hopefully, maybe it’s over?

 

“Now. We’ll go into more detail, and then to make up for this fantastic parenting I will concede to going out tonight.” he says, and I sit back against my chair in defeat, giving up trying to block him out and instead memorizing his words to avoid ever speaking about this again. 

 

He gives us a vague sex talk, promising to reiterate once we’re older. I pretend that Draco isn’t next to me, though no doubt our behavior will be more awkward for a few days after this. Dammit, this is such rubbish timing. I need affection and cuddling more than I care to admit. I think it’s nothing to stress or think over, and since thinking about it makes me feel oddly guilty I’ll just shove it from my mind. 

 

Dad continues for what seems like days, but is really only a few hours. We cover the intricacies of the healthy way to deal with libido, since the spell to remove an erection can do long term damage. We discuss how we will begin to notice girls more, and I worry over Dad’s words even once he’s moved on to how sex works, that is between a witch and wizard. I recall the book Pansy gave me for last Christmas, and decide that while those images were just as cartoonish and exaggerated they were much more appealing than this book. 

 

What if that's the only thing that’s happening? Maybe like Dad says, I’ll grow into liking and noticing girls differently. There must be something I’m missing, Blaise never shuts up about them and Pansy is right there with him. When I tried to question Pansy discreetly about her sexuality, she simply explained tht she liked whom she liked, and wasn’t interested in labeling or investigating it. I wonder if what Blaise says is accurate, that when he sees a particularly fit girl then he gets the nerves Dad described from the book, or he can’t focus. 

 

That must be it. I’m not actually old enough to face any confusion I may have. I’ll begin to fancy girls just like the other boys my age, I’m just a bit late is all.

 

“Harry?” Dad asks, and I snap my head up to face him. He and Draco are both looking at me, and I realize that the book has vanished and the conversation must be over. Trying to wipe my hands on my pants, I smile and wave away their worry, saying I was merely thinking. 

 

If I’m going to convince myself that I will find a girl I like soon, then I have to convince them as well. 

 

“Hey, Dad? You said we could go out tonight, are there any quidditch games scheduled?” I ask, and he sighs. I know that he doesn’t mind quidditch, he enjoys watching the games at Hogwarts. He has some bad blood with professional quidditch players though, and I have secretly committed to getting it out of him. 

 

Before Dad replies, Narcissa sweeps back into the room, the grand billowing of her robes challenging Dad’s flair for dramatics. I should conjure a little trophy and reward it to the biggest drama queen at the end of the summer. I wonder how that’d go over. 

 

“Not to worry, Severus. I shall take them to the Bulgarian match tonight, I’d planned on going with Kingsley regardless and I’m sure I can scrounge up a couple more tickets. You boys had better be getting ready then, Kingsley arrives with the portkey in a couple hours.” she says, and it strikes me how mothery her voice sounds in that moment. Narcissa is the polar opposite of a mother one would see on the telly, or in the muggle magazines. 

 

But all the same, during meals and little conversations I can see the different side to her, the side that is nurturing and unconditional and completely devoted to Draco. Perhaps my mother would have been more like these stolen moments, where she would fix my unruly hair or click her tongue when I eat dessert for breakfast before she is awake. 

 

Thanking Narcissa, I run up the stairs after Draco planning to find a shirt the color opposing Draco’s favorite team. Maybe if I piss his off enough he’ll forget the awkward talk this morning,

 

“You are not wearing that shirt.” he says as soon as I tug a ghastly orange shirt for the Chudley Cannons. I simply grin, and he huffs before crossing the room and literally yanking the shirt off of me. I stand, frozen as he looks for another Bulgarian shirt, my skin burning where his hand accidentally brushed it. 

 

Now I’m overthinking it. Is that normal? Am I only supposed to feel that around a girl? Has he hexed me? 

 

He tosses the folded shirt at me, and I tug it on quickly noting bleakly how large it is on me. I better end up taller than him, if I don’t he literally hold it over me forever. 

 

“Think it’ll be too loud for them?” I ask, nodding to the snakes coiled around their heated branches transfigured across the ceiling. Draco nods, his attention on the mirror attached to the dresser as he runs countless products through it, making complex tussling motions with his fingers until it is to his liking. 

 

Lying down on his bed to be a bother, I wonder over something Narcissa mentioned. 

 

“Hey, Kingsley Shacklebolt is dating your mother, right?” I ask, and Draco hums a confirmation while dabbing lotions over his skin. 

 

“How long have they been dating?” I ask, and he pauses, considering his answer.

 

“Well, they aren’t officially eyt. He is going by the pureblood courting rules, mother thinks it’s all very romantic. They have a couple more dates and gifts to go before they can kiss or do any more than hug really. They’ll be set for a solid relationship by the time I’m back at school, and if all goes well they’ll be married this time next year. In fact, I suspect we’ll be acting as chaperones for them tonight.” he says, and I search his voice for any trace of bitterness. 

 

I consider myself pretty good at reading Draco, and he seems to be excited, if nervous for his mother to be free from his father. We have yet to discuss him, I’ve settled for letting Draco talk about it when he’s ready. 

 

Narcissa calls up the stairs for us, and I lead a flustered Draco down the steps as he continues to fuss with his hair, bemoaning how out of control it had gotten. I wonder how he would cope with my rats nest. 

 

The man standing in the living room is tall, dark skinned and infectiously badass. He stands taller than any of us, and his few scars from his job as an Auror stand out against his friendly, easy smile. He seems kind and threatening all at once, perfectly complex and powerful yet caring, the best fit I can imagine for Narcissa. 

 

Following Kingsley’s directions, I grab a hold of the rumpled newspaper he holds out, Narcissa and Draco doing the same on either side of me. Kingsley counts down from five, and on the last number I feel a wrench on my stomach, pulling me forwards and downwards incredibly fast. I try to focus on the blurring surroundings, and I end up choosing to close my eyes instead at the dizzying sight. 

 

Landing harshly on my feet, I wince at the jarr of pain in my ankles, and turn around to find a huge outdoor stadium, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Empty land stretches on for miles in every direction, and I follow amazed as wizards and witches from everywhere move in a crowd towards the stadium doors. 

  
My first professional quidditch game, this should be interesting... 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer draws to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll be heading to Hogwarts in the next chapter, sorry if the summer break seems long. Enjoy!

The stands of the quidditch stadium are packed, magic pulsing all around me as fully grown wizards apply sunscreen spells and cooling charms, conjure shades and apply cushioning charms to the harsh chairs. Narcissa makes the space as comfortable as possible for us, and Draco explains various things to me in excitement. 

 

Pointing to different wizards, he takes guesses on what they do for work, supplying off the wall reasoning as to why he thinks so for each. At one point he declares that the witch a few rows ahead must be a healer, because of her hair color. 

 

The huge jumbo screen across the field advertises Bertie Bott’s every Flavor Beans and spell check quills. I watch in fascination, looking between the bizarre magical folk around me and back to the screen where seemingly impossible products are being shown. 

 

“Do they play games on the Jumbotron like at muggle events?” I shout over the roar of the crowd, and Draco leans in to hear better. He nods, swallowing a bite of his food before answering. 

 

“Yes, they do different games. Like, there’s the kiss cam, there’s one where they find a wizard with a pint and he has to chug the whole thing, things like that. Look! The teams are coming out!” he says, and I look quickly to the field. Two teams in clashing colours of burgundy and bright orange are striding onto the field, their brooms perched over their shoulders as the captains shake hands. The ref blows her whistle, and the balls are all tossed into the air, every player kicking off and flying perfectly. 

 

I watch them in awe, their graceful movements so in sync with their teammates. The chasers all execute perfect formations that would make Flint cry, the beater’s aim precise. They aren’t very evenly matched, and the Cannons quickly fall behind, the score thirty to seventy as another goal is scored. The keeper is obviously frustrated, which isn’t helping his focus. 

 

The game moves quickly, bright lights turning on around the pitch as the sun disappears replaced by the moon. Narcissa orders us some dinner, and I chew distractedly on some chips while the commentator yells out stats rapidly. They aren’t as funny as the Hogwarts commentator, Lee Jordan but they have to speak much faster in the professional games. 

 

The quaffle is merely a blur of red as it is tossed from player to player, fouls being called the further the game progresses as each team grows more desperate. The snitch has yet to make an appearance, and the commentator wonders aloud it the game will run into the morning. 

 

Looking back at the two seekers I cheer as the Bulgarian player, Viktor Krum, dives down near the goalposts where he must have seen the snitch. The cannon’s seeker is right on his tail, but not fast enough as he grabs the tiny gold ball triumphantly. 

 

“And the winner is Bulgaria, 320 to 50! Viktor Krum has caught the snitch!” the commentator screams, and I stand to cheer with the rest of the crowd, lost in blind and pure excitement. I grin, hardly noticing the uncomfortable press of bodies all around me or the protest in my throat as I yell, my mind solely on the game. 

 

Narcissa eventually tugs us from the stands once the players have disappeared, and Kingsley leads the way to the next portkey out. Making sure I have a hold of the empty can he holds out, I close my eyes before we leave this time to avoid the swirling sensation somewhat. 

 

Landing back in the living room of my house, Dad sitting in an armchair reading I grin, sleep coming easily after the excitement of the game wears of and the exhaustion from the day takes over. 

  
  


The day our Hogwarts letters come is also the first day that I come. I wake up to sticky pants and a vague feeling of warmth from my dream, though I can't remember what happened.   
  
Embarrassed but luckily not caught off guard because of that stupid talk dad had with us, I quickly cast scourgify, and I thank all higher powers that I'm an early riser and Draco sleeps in. This will begin to make sharing a bed awkward, luckily we've agreed we can't shove the beds in the dorm together if only to save from Blaise's comments.  
  
Standing to head to the shower, Ikarus follows me into the hall and insists on being in the shower. Ever since I have him a bath after a trip into the gardens in the mud, he's been obsessed with water. I don't like the idea of a snake that can talk with both me and Draco seeing me in the shower, especially when he tries to have normal conversation the entire time.  
  
I run a shallow bath in the sink for him, and he could into it contentedly as I start the shower, not waiting for the water to heat up before jumping under the cold spray. These showers are uncomfortable but I will not be having any awkward encounters this morning. At least, not again.   
  
"I will miss this place, but I miss the castle more." Ikarus chats, and I sigh. He has grown more and more talkative since Scorpius arrived, and while I'm glad to speak with him I'd rather not talk while showering.   
  
"I miss it too." I say, rinsing my hair out before turning off the water. I pull the towel into the shower and dry off, stepping out with it around my waist.   
  
"You have about half an hour before Draco takes the bathroom over." I warn him, and he lets out a hissy chuckle.   
  
"Draco won't kick me out, he likes making conversation with me in the mornings. He has much better gossip than you." He quips, and I roll my eyes.   
  
Walking silently into the bedroom, I make sure that Draco is sound asleep before changing quickly. Our Hogwarts letters should be arriving today, so I dress for Diagon Alley save for a traveling cloak.   
  
Jumping onto the bed, I laugh as Draco lets out a surprised squeak, turning sleepy gray eyes to glare at me.   
  
"Hey, I was having a good dream." He groans, burrowing his head back into the pile of warm blankets and pillows. I wiggle my way under the web of blankets and sheets, cuddling him to make up for the rude awakening. He is stiff at first, trying to give me the cold shoulder.   
  
"Dracoooo." I say, and he doesn't respond.   
  
"What was your dream about? Were you dreaming of me and my wonderful hair?" I tease, and he stiffens even more. Fine, if he won't talk I'll make him.   
  
Grinning mischievously, I move so that he can't escape and begin tickling his sides mercilessly. He gasps, trying to squirm away from me but trapped by the blankets around his legs and torso, and I vaguely notice in jealousy how soft and unmarked his skin is. He giggles in between loud gasps for air, and I eventually wear off when he promises to speak with me.  
  
"Geroff, you git. I'm up!" He says, calming down. I simply smile back, not sorry in the least. Grabbing his wrists I use my own momentum to pull him up and out of the bed, and he grumbles the entire time collecting his clothes and shower things.   
  
I wait for him to finish, playing cards with Scorpius. We play poker, and I levitate the cards in front of him while he dictates which he'd like to trade in and what he's playing. He ends up being very good, and I sigh as I lose for the third time in a row.   
  
I'm just a single card away from a royal flush when Draco walks back in, his hair styled to perfection for Diagon alley and Ikarus draped over his shoulder. Both snakes are much bigger than they were at Christmas, Ikarus no longer able to just curl over our arm and Scorpius barely being able to do so himself.   
  
"You should convince your dad to buy you new robes. I want my clothes back." He says, plopping down behind his snake and whispering a suggestion.   
  
"Why, I look better in them. Hey! No helping." I say, and Scorpius asks Draco to lay down his hand smugly. I watch as he lays down four jacks, and I don't even bother showing my rubbish hand before clearing up the cards with a groan.   
  
"I swear he cheats." I say, and Draco laughs. We walk down to breakfast, letting the snakes into the garden to hunt for the day as Dad sets breakfast on the table.     
  
"Narcissa is getting your letters from the owl out front right now. We'll leave right after breakfast to get everything on the list, I trust you have at least begun packing?" He asks, and I share a look with Draco.   
  
"Of course." I say, and he rolls his eyes. Narcissa strides back into the room, holding two thick envelopes. She hands one to each of us, and I tear into it to scan first the books list and then my grades. I smile, they aren't bad at all, probably because Draco was pushing me the entire year.   
  
"Why are there so many books on the list for Defense by Lockhart?" I wonder aloud. Draco shrugs, handing his list to his mom to look over.   
  
"New teacher must be a fan." He says. Dad purses his lips. I know he wants the position, but Dumbledore won't let him. He won't say why though.   
  
"Dad, have you met the new guy?" I ask, and he shakes his head.   
  
"No. There is a staff meeting next week before term begins, so Narcissa will take both of you to the Platform. Speaking of, Harry. What would you like to do for your birthday this week?" He asks, and I blank.   
  
"Oh. Um, I don't think it's very fair to celebrate mine if Draco didn't get to celebrate his." I say, and Draco rolls his eyes next to me.   
  
I've never really celebrated my birthday, so I'm not sure what to ask for or what to do. I doubt Dudley is a very good example, he'd receive the world if he whined enough. Plus, I still feel guilty for missing Draco's birthday this summer when I wasn't able to write.   
  
"I did celebrate. With mum and Lucius." Draco says, and now it's my turn to roll my eyes.   
  
"Please. Alright, how about it can be like a combined birthday? I know you didn't enjoy yourself around your dad, so let's just have a joint birthday party." I say. He looks skeptical, so I elaborate for only him to hear.   
  
"I've never had a birthday, I don't know what to do with all the attention on me. Please." I say, and he grudgingly nods.   
  
"Alright. Well, we could always go to Diagon Alley today and see if we can find any inspiration there.” he shrugs, and I nod. Dad clears way the plates with a flick of his wand once we’re done, and he spots my envelope. 

 

“Harry.” he says, and I look over nervous. His voice is inquisitive, but his gaze is serious. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why haven’t you shown me your grades yet?” he asks, and I blink stupidly. I didn’t think I had to?

 

“I, um, I didn’t think you’d care to see them. Didn’t you give me one of the grades?” I ask, and he cocks an eyebrow.

 

“I am your parent, which includes rewarding things like good grades and setting up more rules for poor ones. Now, let’s see it.” he says, holding out his hand. I fidget nervously as he skims over the letters, aware that while I was proud of them he may have different standards. I also didn’t score as high as Draco, who came in second in the year just behind Hermione. 

 

“Excellent. I’m very proud of you.” he says, giving a genuine smile when he reappears from behind the parchment. I grin relieved, and we all move towards the fireplace where we’ll floo into the leaky cauldron. 

 

“Now, you have to say Diagon Alley because just saying the Leaky Cauldron will take you to a different restaurant all the way in France. Understood? Good, now Narcissa will go first, then Draco, then Harry and then myself.” Dad says, and I watch as Narcissa disappears in a burst of green flame after clearly saying ‘diagon alley’. 

 

Once Draco has gone I take a handful of the powder, dropping it at my feet and choking on the words when some ends up in my throat. I try to pronounce correctly around my coughs, spinning on the spot and hopefully ending up at the right place. 

 

Falling from the grate, I land on a dirty hardwood floor, and look up nervously through my cracked glasses. Well, I’m definitely in a Wizard’s shop, but I don’t think it’s in Diagon Alley.

 

Scanning the room briefly, I make sure that I’m alone before standing to look at the odd and disturbing products on display. Mutated skeletons and transfigured body parts line the shelves, weaponry and expensive items such as jewelry boxes and candle holders in glass cases. A hand that is seemingly in the middle of decaying is propped on a velvet cushion, and I reach out to touch the realistic skin only for the hand to spring to life, snatching my fingers in a bone-crushing grip. 

 

Yanking myself free, I catch my breath and decide to leave, pushing through the door and onto the slightly crowded road. While wizards still walk around me the sight couldn’t be further from that of Diagon alley, the only conversation being between wizards and themselves or imaginary people, an odd noise breaking the low murmur every now and again like a sob or a shrill cackle. The shops are all dirty, the windows covered in grime and wanted posters fitting the dreary image. I try to keep my head down, and an elderly woman snatches my arm up pulling me to a stop in a particularly shadowy part of the road. 

 

“Lost, dear boy?” she asks, her eyes twinkling with mirth. I twist my arm free, reminding myself that the worst thing to do would be to show fear right now. Just then, a familiar voice bellows my name, and I turn sharply to find the huge form of Hagrid towering over me. The witch scuttles back into a shop, and Hagrid grabs hold of my robes leading me down a few roads until we find ourselves back in Diagon Alley. Sighing in relief, I thank Hagrid, hugging him hello. 

 

“How was your summer Hagrid?” I ask, looking up. He smiles, forgetting his questions as to what I was doing in what he called Knockturn Alley. He rummages in his inner coat pockets for a moment, pulling out a large leather bound book. 

 

“It’s been good, ‘Arry. An’ yours? I got ye this fer yer birthday, it’s a few days early but I migh’ not see ye again til school.” he says jovially, and I grin taking the book from him. It reminds me vaguely of a scrapbook with the square shape and stiff binding, and I turn open the cover to see a picture of three people smiling back at me. A wizard's photo, the couple are waving and grinning, the woman holding a baby. I realize with a shock that this must be my parents and I.

 

Swallowing the lump in my throat and blinking harshly to distill any tears forming there, I thank Hagrid again with a hug, interrupted by Hermione’s voice behind me. 

 

“Harry! Draco’s looking for you, he’s so worried. I got your letters, I can’t believe a house elf was keeping your mail! Oh, what have you done to your glasses? Occulus Reparo! There.” she babbles, and I take my glasses off inspecting the completely mended glass. 

 

“Thanks, I’ll have to remember that one.” I say, and she smiles. Hagrid says goodbye, and I follow Hermione into Flourish and Blotts where Draco and Narcissa are standing holding the school books, my Dad a few feet away inspecting a potions book. He looks up when I walk in, smiling slightly and the look of worry drifting away. He has all of my books gathered, and we move to stand in line to pay for them. The line seems unusually long, and I crane my neck to see what all of the commotion is about.

 

“S’cuse me, boy, this is for the Daily Prophet.” a rather ude reporter says, jostling me out of his way so that he can't take a photograph of the table stationed at the front of the line. I look through the parted crowd in his wake, spotting a curly haired man with an obnoxious smile standing proudly behind the table, posters of himself posted all around him. 

 

He scans the crowd, his eyes landing on me and I realize a moment too late that he’s recognized me. 

 

“Merlin’s beard, you must be Harry Potter!” he says, and the reporter spins around, yanking me roughly forward and within reach of the man, who then pulls me to his side in a vice like grip. 

 

“Smile, now Harry, together you and I will make the front page.” he grinds through closed teeth, his smile far too large in proportion to the rest of his features. I blink my eyes at the bright flash of light from the camera, and I try to detatch myself from him side in vain. 

 

“Now, this seems as good a time as ever to make my announcements. When young Harry here walked into Flourish and Blott's today, he had no idea that he would be receiving all, of my collected works, including my most recent edition of my full biography Magical Me, free of charge.” he grins once more, motioning to a stack of books all with his face on them. The crowd claps, and I see Draco laughing at me from his spot in line. I glare, but before I can put any real force into it I see a man stride in, who looks strikingly like Draco down to the silver eyes and white hair. His face is cold, and I realize with a drop in my stomach that this must be his father. 

 

Trying to communicate to Draco what is happening, I see Lucius look around briefly before setting something into a black standard cauldron propped on a shelf, where someone must have left it. I try to continue watching him, but the camera flash is back once more and I suppose the second announcement must have been made since the crowd surges forward and I find myself trying to get through to Draco. 

 

Stumbling as my foot catches just as I leave the thickest part of the crowd, I watch in horror as Lucius strides up to Dad, Draco and Narcissa, a sinister smile plastered across his face. I begin to make my way over, but Dad stops me with a single look, telling Draco something quietly. Lucius seems to protest but Draco leaves the group anyway, walking over to me with a frown, his amusement at my discomfort having vanished at the sight of his father. 

 

“Famous Harry Potter, can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.” a voice sneers from behind me, and I turn to see a fiery red head of hair and a look of dislike across Ron Weasley’s face. A younger Weasley girl is behind him slightly, holding a new cauldron that holds all of her school books. She must be a first year.

 

“Leave him alone, idiot.” Draco says, and Ron turns to glare at him. 

 

“Oh look, Potter’s little guard dog here to save the day.” Ron laughs, but his chuckles are silenced when Dad places a hand on my shoulder, his face trained into the mask he wears especially for students causing trouble. He makes civil conversation for a moment, saying a sharp goodbye and leading us from the shop altogether, our books shrunk down into his bag along with my scrapbook as we move on to robes. 

  
As I stand, getting fitted for my school robes I realize disappointed that I forgot to see who owned the cauldron that Lucius put something into. He couldn’t have been up to any good, I’ll just have to wait and see if it comes up again. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whomping Willow and favoritism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short, it's finals combined with blatant sexism at school right now so I've been neglecting my writing. Though once this is all over it will be summer which means much longer and more frequent updates! I'll be posting another story on the side soon, though it's mpreg so may not be your cup of tea. Anyways, enjoy!

The morning that we leave for Hogwarts Draco is sitting on his neatly packed trunk watching me scramble around trying to find half of my things. I curse tripping over my own feet and tossing anything I can find into the open trunk on my bed, trying to make a mental checklist as I go. I can’t have dad mail anything I forget over like the other kids because he wouldn’t be home, and I wouldn’t admit that I forgot anything in the first place. 

 

“Wow. What a fuss, makes me so glad I packed as soon as we left Diagon Alley.” Draco sighs, and I send a glare in his direction. He is examining his nails, looking the very picture of calm and nonchalant. 

 

“Draco.” I sigh, ready to admit defeat and ask for his help. He looks up, his eyes glittering with victory. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Help me finish this.” I grind out, not meeting his eyes. This whole admitting you’re wrong thing is awful, how do people do it? 

 

“Hm. I don’t think I will, you’ve forgotten the magic word.” he says, going back to his nails. I let out  a huff of frustration, honestly this boy is so much work. 

 

“Please?” I ask, and he grins. Bloody git. 

 

“Of course. Budge over, you need to fold things if they’re ever going to fit.” he says, and I turn to continue gathering things up as he folds them into the trunk. We work silently, and I almost have everything when Dad yells up the stairs for us to hurry up. Luckily there is a considerable dent in the case now that things are folded, so I can fit my cauldron, schoolbooks, broom and the pile of last minute odds and ends. I almost forget the invisibility cloak stowed underneath my bed, but I snag it up and shove it in on top as Dad walks in. 

 

“Let’s go, I was supposed to apparate to Hogsmeade five minutes ago.” he says, levitating both trunks out and down the stairs in front of us. We each grab hold of Narcissa’s arm tightly, and I swallow the nasty apparation feeling, landing harshly on Platform 9 ¾ as Narcissa quickly moves us off of the apparation spot. She says a quick farewell, having a meeting planned with Kingsley that we’ve made her late for. We are one of the stragglers walking towards the barrier, and the entire Weasley family squeezes through just before us, Molly ranting loudly about a bloody car that sounds very familiar. I smile at the memory of the twins saving me from the Dursley’s.

 

Draco and I begin to jog with our carts, breaking into a run as we near the stone barrier, and I see the cart hit the very much solid wall before I feel it, the handle bar crunching into my stomach as everything falls off of the trolley. 

 

“We can’t have gotten the wrong one, we just saw the Weasley’s go through!” Draco says shrilly, and I nod, dazed. What if they can’t get back out then?

 

“D’you think they can still come out?” I ask, and Draco thinks over this.

 

“Wait, Harry. You said that the car she was having a strop about was the one that flies, yea? Think they drove it here?” he asks mischievously, and I catch his idea immediately. While literally all of the adults will be pissed about it, I can’t afford not going to Hogwarts. This has to be the only way, plus the twins would fully support me. 

 

Turning to follow Draco with my cart packed up again, we finally find the beaten up Ford Angelina in the packed lot, and I know it’s theirs because of the careless witch weekly magazine left peeking out of the glove box. Feeling on the inside of the tire indent, I find the keys fastened with a loose sticking charm where Fred had placed them when we got to the Burrow and I pull them free. Draco packs all of our things, and I slid into the driver’s seat both excited and terrified. 

 

Sure, I’ve seen plenty of adults drive cars. Can’t be too hard, really. 

 

I finally get the engine started, and I nervously try to recall anything and everything I know from movies. Right, set the gear into drive, then there’s the gas and brakes…

 

Until I accidentally hit a button and the car begins hovering two feet off the ground, and I curse slamming the button again hoping that it will drop us the second time. 

 

Instead, the car lurches forward, soaring almost vertically upwards and I try to find the invisibility button the twins had. After accidentally making the windshield wipers go off it works, and I take a deep breath as the car starts to level out, invisible from muggles and flying relatively smoothly. 

 

“Now we have to find the train.” I say, looking over to Draco. He is much more pale than usual, and his hands are clenching the seat beneath him. 

 

Hearing a distant train engine, I speed the car up, going in the general direction of the train. I soon spot it, the curling red line standing out against the green countryside. Hovering about fifty feet above the train and a little ways behind it, I don’t have to steer much in the air and I watch as the afternoon sun slowly sinks behind the mountains. 

 

We follow the train for about an hour in the dark, the lights of compartment windows keeping us on track before the car begins to short out, the invisibility function wearing off. I begin to panic, pressing the button harshly until the car teeters dangerously to the side. Draco yelps, his foot slipping and the door on his side banging open as the car turns invisible but sideways, and I grab Draco’s wrist tightly before he can fly out onto the train below. 

 

Righting the car with a sharp twist of the wheel, Draco tumbles back in landing against my side, his door slamming shut. When I look back up, the train is slowing down, and I can see Hogsmeade and the castle in the distance. Taking my foot off of the gas, I let us continue in the same pace towards the castle, turning the invisibility back on successfully even though they shouldn’t be able to see us in the dark. 

 

“Just land this bloody thing so we can get on solid ground.” Draco says, sounding ill. He wouldn’t speak the whole way over, and I am beginning to worry that he’ll be sick in the Weasley’s car. 

 

I tense up as we near the invisible protections around the school, but apparently we aren’t a threat since we meet no hinderance and find ourselves sailing over the grounds. Grinning, I forget that I’m supposed to be stopping the car when it sputters, doubling in speed and dropping in height all at once until Draco smacks his wand against the car side, yelling ‘stop!’. While the car slows, it doesn’t halt until we hit something hard. 

 

Looking up, dazed, I wince at the sting in my- well, everything, and I have to duck quickly before something splintery is beating against my side of the car, smashing in the windows and sending a shower of glass everywhere. Before I can recuperate from the first blow, another huge block of wood slams down on the hood of the car. The next hit knocks the entire car out of the tree, and I briefly feel the dropping sensation in my gut before my head hits the dented roof as I bounce back up. 

 

“Go, go go go! Get out, come on!” Draco screams, and I fumble with the door knob, just missing the next heavy branch to smash the car in. The trunk pops open, spewing our luggage everywhere before the car sputter back to life on it’s own, driving rapidly towards the forbidden forest. 

 

“What, the, hell? We are never listening to your ideas again.” Draco gasps, and I turn to him incredulous.    
  


“Me? I’m fairly certain this was your plan, Malfoy.” I say, and my blood runs cold when a brisk voice interrupts us. 

 

“The riveting details can surely wait, Misters Malfoy and Potter. Inside, my office immediately. Leave your things, I imagine unpacking would do you no good.” Mcgonagall says, her tone and expression like ice. Looking to Draco, I silently tell him to just go along with it and we fall into step behind her, walking through the empty grounds towards the castle. 

 

The Great Hall is loud and cheerful sounding, and we walk right past the delicious smelling food and up the grand staircase, down towards the transfiguration classroom. Ikarus quietly asks to slip out of my robes, and I can hear Scorpius whining to do the same. Looking to Draco and making sure that Mcgonagall’s back is turned, we let them out of our sleeves and they disappear down the hallway quickly, eager to explore the castle once more. Maybe that would buy me some time.

 

When she leads us into her office, I know from the look on her face that we are totally screwed. 

 

“Never have I seen such immaturity, such blatant disregard and disrespect for the entire wizarding world. Muggles saw you, wizards saw you! Did neither of you consider the damage you could have done? To an innocent muggle plane or to our school train? You have already damaged school property, the Whomping Willow has been here since before you were born. Did you consider the consequences before you made such a rash decision, stealing a family car and using it to endanger others, I will not be surprised if you are expelled before the night is out. If you were in my house-” she rants, standing on one side of her desk and staring us down in the identical chairs across from her. The door swings open, cutting her off mid sentence and her look of fury intensifies. 

 

“However, they are not, Professor McGonagall.” Dumbledore interjects, and I spin around in my chair to see him walking inside in shining golden robes, Dad following right behind him. 

 

“Sir, do you truly think it is wise to leave this punishment up to such a partial party?” she asks, not giving a damn that Severus was in the room. She’s an admirable woman, it just sucks to be on the other end of her wrath. No wonder Gryffindors love her so much.

 

“Trust me Minerva when I say, that my involvement will do them no favours here, I am beyond disappointed.” Dad says, and I feel a lump in my throat at the clear lack of any warmth in his statement. Suddenly, I wish Mcgonagall was the one punishing us. Dumbledore simply chuckles, and steps between the two adults. I swear he winks at me, but it must be a trick of the light.

 

“Now, I will hold main judgement over these two once we have heard the full story. Boys, if you will.” he prompts, and I look to Draco. He’s always been a better liar and better at improvising, twisting words. We need that right about now.

 

“Well, you see sir we arrived a tad late for the express, and we got caught behind the Weasley family in going through the barrier to platform 9 ¾.” he begins, and I nod. So far, it’s all the truth, Draco even sounded kind when mentioning the Weasley family. The twins have grown on him. 

 

“And once we realized we were locked out we didn’t know what to do. Underage magic is a crime, you know.” he continues, and Mcgonagall huffs. 

 

“Why did neither of you simply send an owl to the school explaining what happened?” she asks, and I decide to speak.

 

“Well, neither of us have owls. We use the school ones, and Draco’s mother has one as well for home.” I say, and Draco nods. Mcgonagall looks to Dad behind me, and I assume he nods as well since she purses her lips.

 

“Then what pets do you have?” she asks, and I turn to Dumbledore.

 

“Ah, yes. Ikarus. Minerva, I do believe I told the staff last year of the black mamba amongst our ranks?” he asks, smiling. Her jaw sets, and she maintains remarkable composure as she speaks. 

 

“I was not under the impression that it was a first year student who was trusted with such a dangerous animal.” she said, and Dumbledore just nods, not fazed in the least.

 

“Well, I think that a letter home to each of your parents along with further punishment decided by Professor Snape is in order. However, for the time being you are not expelled.” he says, and I have to keep myself from whooping out loud. I grin at Draco, and Mcgonagall huffs, leaving to straighten out her new first years as Dumbledore leaves for more dessert.  

 

The office seems much smaller, all of a sudden.

 

“I am very disappointed in both of you, but goodness knows that yelling at you will do very little. You will be having detentions, we will sort out the details later when Mcgonagall stops badgering me to see what has been done. For now, off to bed.” he says, giving each of us a brief hug that conveys all of his worry over our well being. The snakes were able to patch up any injuries on our way up to the castle, so we needn’t go to Madam Pomfrey.

 

I grin, focusing on one thing Dad left out.

  
“No docked house points, huh? Maybe you care more than you let on.” He sends a glare my way, and I follow Draco laughing and finalizing the embellished story to tell the rest of the Slytherins. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how sorry I am, it's taken me forever to update and I know I have it in my bio that I update once every few days. It's finals week and I have work, so I've been busy but summer holiday begins in two days so I'll be back to updating once a day or so. Thanks for sticking around, hopefully the long chapter helps and I hope you enjoy!

The term starts relatively normal, and in the whirlwind of breaking into new school books and returning to a schedule of some sort Dad takes almost three weeks to assign us detentions. The morning after our spontaneous arrival, Hermione is still slightly cold and disapproving at our antics while Pansy is soaking us the attention it’s garnering her. The feast is delicious, and I have to remind myself that to load up on the rich Hogwarts food the first day back wouldn’t do my stomach any favours. 

 

Dad wasn’t happy with us, and I try to get past the lump in my stomach at disappointing him. Ikarus and Scorpius returned just to say they were going out onto the grounds for the day, and I continue thinking over how stupid I’d been. When I say as much to Draco, he just rolls his eyes. His mother had written back a letter, angry and cold though resigned. Draco explained that most children would get a howler, a talking envelope but Narcissa didn’t care to screech her family buisness out to anyone near enough to hear. 

 

Fred’s mother shares no such qualms. She sends a howler, berating the twins for showing the family car to anyone, indirectly screaming at me for stealing her property and being ‘a usual slytherin’. Fred and George don’t take it too hard, though Ron sends daggers my way, hexing me poorly a few times in the corridors. Draco’s wand is malfunctioning, though he refuses to write home and admit to his mother that he broke something so important when she’s already cross with his behavior. He manages well enough in classes with Scorpius’ help keeping him in one of the top class rankings. 

 

The first class on tuesdays is herbology, and we make our way onto the rainy grounds, rushing to get under the cover of greenhouse three where Professor Sprout stands in a pair of thick earmuffs, empty pots and identical earmuffs covering the table in front of her. We pull on the protective outer robes and dragon hide gloves, gathering to stand on either side of the long table running down the center of the greenhouse. Once we’re all ready before her, she begins her lesson.

 

“Good morning, second years. We will be working with Mandrakes this term, they are just wee babies for the moment and are growing a bit too big for their first pots. Their screams will paralyze you once they’re fully grown, but even still they’re strong enough to knock you unconscious. Be sure you have a pair of earmuffs, plenty to go round, and have them on real tight.” she says, gesturing to her own. We take the earmuffs, and she magnifies her voice magically so that we can still hear the rest of her instructions. 

 

“Now, you each have a few Mandrakes and empty pots, just grip the base of the sprout real tight like so, and pull-” yanking her arm upwards, and ugly creature resembling a troll’s baby made of bark comes up, screaming it’s head off. Even with the earmuffs the sound hurts. 

 

“And toss em into the pot!” she shouts over the screams, covering the creature with soil quickly and muffling the noises.

 

“And cover them generously. Right, your turn. Grab firmly, pull-” she says, and we begin the task of replanting Mandrakes, Draco messing with his and getting his finger bit. I laugh at him, and he glares before potting the mandrake. 

 

By the time the hour is over, most of the mandrakes are replotted and my arms are aching, something quidditch will no doubt fix right up. 

 

Walking back up to the castle for some well earned lunch, I check that Neville is back to normal after unfortunately passing out in class. He smiles at me, telling me that he found the whole car thing rather funny, oblivious to Ron’s glare in our direction.

 

“Thank Nev. Hey, would you mind helping me again this year for Herbology exams? I can help in a class with you, if you’d like.” he nods, and I make my way back to the Slytherin table, where Pansy is talking to Blaise about how best to ask a girl out.

 

“Are you trying out for quidditch Pans?” I ask, sliding into the seat next to Draco and loading my plate with food. She looks back over, considering. 

 

“I don’t think so, maybe next year.” she says, before turning back to Blaise. He is giving her ridiculous courting tips, and though he has more experience than a second year should have I don’t give his advice much credence. 

 

“Hey Harry, do you want to play some poker in the common room?” A familiar voice asks from behind me as we stand collecting our things, and I turn to see Theo. Smiling, I agree and turn to invite Draco and Blaise. 

 

Draco seems quiet and I let the others fall a few steps in front of us so that I can talk to him. 

 

“ _ What’s up?”  _ I ask, and he turns sharply to me from where he was glaring at Theo’s back. 

 

_ “Just don’t really know the Theo guy.”  _ He hedges, and I raise an eyebrow. Draco doesn’t act this cold towards people he hasn’t met, there must be something else. 

 

_ “He’s nice, I swear.”  _ I say, and he doesn’t look away from Theo this time when he speaks.

 

_ “He’s gay.”  _ His words make my stomach drop, and I try to ignore the hurt and anger welling in my throat. I didn’t think Draco cared, I didn’t think he would look at me like that if he knew. 

 

_ “I didn’t have you pegged for someone who gave a damn.”  _ I say, my voice harsh but I can’t find it in me to care. He turns to me, confused at the venom in my tone and he startles at the amount of hurt on my face. Usually I am better than this, I can wave it off or put up my Slytherin mask of nonchalance but this hurts, knowing that the idiot boy who started all of my curiosity in the first place actually feels this way to some degree. 

 

_ “What? I don’t, I wasn’t sure if you did.”  _ He defends, and I can’t help the little strangled laugh I let out. 

 

_ “It’d be kind of hard considering I’m gay as well.”  _ I say, and I expect immediate regret but instead I’m relieved. Though this isn’t the way I imagined first coming out, or first admitting it to myself the words make the whole thing much more clear, and they seem to lose some of their mystery. I’ll most likely regret it later when I regain my filter, but oh well.

 

_ “What?”  _ He asks, and I can’t find it in me to analyze his voice or reaction as the common room door appears. Walking through, I follow the others towards a collection of couches in the middle of the room. 

 

_ “Forget it.”  _ I say, slightly short. I may be on some weird high from finally confessing to both myself and my best mate, but I can’t just shrug off that he seems to be a little more homophobic than I thought. This is usually how it goes, you’re fine until someone close to you comes out and then the underlying prejudices begin to pop up, ‘but you seem so normal’, ‘I didn’t think  _ you  _ would be like that’. 

 

_ “No, Harry I swear I don’t have a problem with it.”  _ He reassures, and though I can read him better than anyone and he seems genuine I decide I don’t feel like talking about this anymore.

 

_ “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”  _ I say, a little more gentle. I want to tell him it’s fine, I forgive him, but I know I should probably wait until I’ve thought it over first. 

 

_ “Fine.”  _ He says, his mask and guard coming back up as he stalks away from the group, back into the dorms. My stomach falls, and I find the game of poker lasts much too long even though I excuse myself early and it’s hours until curfew. 

 

Walking into the dorms, I also choose to ignore how, for the first time since we’ve arrived his drapes are shut and he hasn’t snuck into my magically enlarged bed to cuddle. Well, fine. If he thinks because I’m gay I’ll be all over him or my intentions are anything but friendly, then fuck him. 

 

And I definitely don’t use a spell to fall asleep or let myself choke out a sob at the fact that my best mate, the person whose judgement matters most didn’t accept me and left me to face my usual tirade of nightmares alone. 

 

In the morning, I don’t address what happened and neither does he. There is no huge apology, there is no angry comments or emotional chats. We go back to usual, both with the understanding that we’ll have to address it later and neither is off the hook to pretend it didn’t happen. The whole thing is very slytherin.

 

“We have defense today, are you excited to see the new guy?” Blaise asks, and I shrug. I am not looking forward to this class, and I say as much as we walk down to the Great Hall. Ikarus and Scorpius are off once more, and I find that I miss their presence. Draco argues with Scorpius for awhile before letting him go with the promise that he would return for afternoon classes, he is the only thing that is keeping Draco’s magic on track since his wand is broken and his pride keeps him from writing home for a new one. 

 

Over breakfast Blaise and Pansy argue about whether or not Lockhart is conceited to list all of his own books on the booklist for the class. By the time we reach the room I feel like I know the man much better than I’d like to, after reading some of the books and hearing Blaise talk about him so much. 

 

The Gryffindors and Slytherins are lined up outside the classroom when we arrive, and I join Daphne and Pansy in line waiting for the lesson to begin. Hermione and Neville walk up to the Gryffindor line across the hall a few minutes later, and just as Pansy gathers the courage to go talk to Hermione the classroom door bangs open, revealing Lockhart in what seems to be a shimer spell, dressed in atrocious powder blue robes. 

 

“ _ I think Blaise is going to cry.”  _ Draco smirks, nodding towards a star struck Blaise. Naturally, only a Slytherin could perceive his passive looks but living with the supposedly emotionless bunch of students, you get pretty attuned to body language.

 

_ “Daphne is right there with him.”  _ I retort, and he snickers as we make our way into the classroom, snagging a few seats towards the back despite the teacher’s attempts to coax us to the front. 

 

“Good morning, students. Today I, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, will be helping you young wizards and witches navigate the darkest corners of the world. This year, you may face your worst- fears- but rest assured. As long as I am here, you are safe. To begin, a quiz to reveal who has read ahead of class. Answer to the best of your ability.” he says, his voice as dramatic as it was in the bookstore. Draco pulls out a piece of parchment and temporary ink to begin writing notes as Professor Lockhart levitates quizzes to each row of desks.

 

Scanning the quiz, I have to double check to make sure these are serious. While I did read ahead and know far too much thanks to Blaise, these questions are loosely based on the actual events and more on details as to Lockhart himself.

 

I end up guessing on most, who the hell remembers what award Lockhart won in the second week of his journey through a vampire den? Or what his favourite colour is?

 

When he grades them magically and calls out two perfect scores, it appears only Blaise and Hermione do. Hermione, naturally would know all there is to be known about the book, but Blaise receives pokes to the side and looks from Draco and I that he studiously ignores. 

 

“Well, it appears a social ladder is fast forming among us, those who study and those who will fall behind to face the perils of the magical world. Today I have something very special planned, but I warn you, do not scream.” Lockhart speaks, his theatrics reaching a high as he moved towards a shaking cage in the corner of the room, no larger than that of an owl but covered with a thick blue cloak.

 

“It may-” he yanks off the sheet, “Provoke them!” and Draco’s hand grips my leg in surprise as high pitched squeals fill the room. Straining for a better look, I am confused at the sight of what look like little fairies with the head of house elves, a deep blue colour.

 

“Cornish Pixies?” A gryffindor boy, Seamus I think, laughs from one of the front seats. Lockhart stiffens, but I have to give him credit for his improv skills when his lesson subject isn’t receiving the right response. While he seems a bit frantic to get our attention, he hasn’t resorted to drastic measures yet.

 

“Freshly caught, cornish pixies. Let’s see if you’re laughing, now!” With a flick of his wand the cage bursts open, and the room quickly dissolves into chaos. I shove everything into my bag, wincing as one dives at my hair. 

 

Draco actually manages to make a biting comment in all of the fuss about how my hair looks while he wrestles with a Pixie for his book back. They are diving everywhere, students duck under the desks and try to cover themselves as best as possible as the blue devils hunt for anything of any value. 

 

Until one manages to snatch up a wand. The students all scramble fearfully from the room, abandoning their possessions and I curse my pride for keeping me from a front seat. One unfortunate student has been suspended in the air on a hanging fossil of an odd creature, and I realize with dread that it’s Neville.

 

“Why is it always me?” he wails, trying to wrestle free from the surprisingly strong grip of the pixies. He’ll fall if he keeps wriggling like that, and just as I’m about to tell him to stop Draco beats me to it.

 

“I say this with all the hufflepuff care in my cold dead heart, stop moving like an idiot before you fall and smash your skull open. These are new robes and blood would clash horribly with them.” he drawls, and the message seems to get across well enough. I sometimes forget how Draco talks to people he isn’t comfortable around, and his quick but sharp words never fail to shock me somewhat. 

 

Sure, I’m definitely his biggest punching bag metaphorically speaking, but when he talks to me and our friends he has a different tone, an undercurrent of care. 

 

As I try to work out a way to get Neville down while dodging the sparks aimed all over the room by the rogue wand, I spot a set of blonde curls running for the office at the top of the stairs, and I shout for the teacher to stop when he mutters some excuse before slamming the door shut. All of the paintings and portraits of him duck out of frame as well, seeming to run towards his office rather than the halls to get help. Absolute idiots, I am surrounded and being taught by absolute idiots. 

 

“For fucks sake, how are we supposed to catch these things?” I sigh, trying to cast different spells and finding that none are working. They are either too fast or the spell bounces off of their skin, ineffective. 

 

“Don’t you read?” Hermione shouts back, still firing off spells. I try to get closer to hear what incantation she’s using, but a seemingly frozen pixie lands on my head and I shake it off in mild disgust, Draco laughing at my expression from the corner. 

 

Groaning in irritation, I hear Hermione shouting an upper year freezing spell and begin to do so as well, though it takes a while with how fast they’re moving and being new at the spell. Finally we have the wand carrier cornered, and Hermione paralyzes it leaving me to snatch up the wand which Neville says is his. Somehow it looks even worse for wear than Draco’s and I set it carefully on the desk to get him down. 

 

Helping Neville down slowly, Draco apologizes for the state of his wand saying he’ll have to keep a better hold of Scorpius for next lesson in case we run into something like this again. We decide to just leave the pixies, Lockhart left us to fend for ourselves so he can put them away when he comes back out. It’s up to him whether or not he’s fast enough to get them all put up before the charm wears off. 

 

Parting ways with the Gryffindors, we spend the rest of the period talking in Parseltongue about anything and everything other than the previous day, even going so far as to talk about bloody charms technicalities. Of course, I don’t care a whit about the subject and neither does he, but what kind of Slytherins would we be if we didn’t spend the next hour arguing our brains out over it because we have to win and being right is top priority?

 

Our argument on the importance of wand motions versus pronunciation lasts all the way until dinner, and Pansy frustratedly sits next to Blaise instead, tired of our bickering. I know we are both using this to avoid actually talking, but the familiar grounds of political words and defensive arguments calms me down, reminds me what I’m good at. I can do these kinds of words, I can handle the complex web of changing your own opinion mid argument and being sure not to trip up on your previous points.

 

Towards the end of dinner, a prefect delivers our detention assignments from Dad and we tear into them nervously, putting the bickering on hold. Scanning the top of the page, I groan before reading Draco’s and pouting even more.

 

I had hoped that he would be nice enough to give us the same one, but instead he assigned Draco to the task I wouldn’t mind and he hated, shining the trophy room with Filch. His plan for my detention was worse, though Draco glared at me when he heard that I’d ‘gotten off easy’ with a detention with Lockhart, sorting fanmail.

 

“You’re the one that got off easy, Filch talks a lot but he can’t do anything. Shining trophies is nothing, I wish I got yours.” I say, as we walk towards the Slytherin common room to drop off our bags. I glare at the carefree students milling about, they don’t have to endure Lockhart and his damn mail. What if he hasn’t cleaned up the pixies? 

 

“See you after house elf work.” Draco whines pitifully, and I roll my eyes at the complain, walking towards Lockhart’s office. 

 

Normally I’d laugh at his sad expression, but I am finding myself on the edge of my patience today, the argument from yesterday still grating at me. It may be silly to still feel so hung up over it, but I know better than to let things be when Draco steps out of line. It’s why we work so well as best mates, why nobody else can stand either him or me as long as we do for each other. I know he will push push push until you snap back, and so he knows that eventually my patience does wear thin and I am honest, if blunt and harsh. These things scare others off, and nobody likes disappointing Draco or facing me in a bad mood.

 

But sometimes you have to scream at each other until you both admit you’re sorry and how much you care, because of that he will always be my best mate, and he will have to apologize for this. Big time. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry hears a voice, the first victim is hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's now summer so I'll update more often but please understand I do have a job. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!!

The detention lasts about two and a half hours, and I have perfected the art of tuning Lockhart out. He is having me stamp each of his envelopes with his wax seal, he explains the importance  of filling out the address and letters himself, adds a personal touch.

 

He mentions something about fame, and I nod along, saying ‘mhmm’ whenever he pauses. I only have to give a vague answer once, the rest of the space he fills up on his own. My hand aches by the time he notices the clock, and I leave with a hurried goodbye and ignoring his call for me to wait for him to walk me down. 

 

Walking towards the dungeons, I cut through a few back hallways, ending up somewhere on the second floor. I walk towards the direction of the Great Hall, since the dungeons are just off the Entrance Hall. Draco is probably already in bed, curfew is long over and Lockhart was probably telling me he’d take me to save me from trouble but it’s too late now. 

 

Draco is in bed, right? I swear I hear someone talking and he’s the only idiot who would mess with me after curfew, but it could be the wind. Shaking it off, I am near the middle of the second floor corridor when I hear it again, though I’m close enough to distinguish words.

 

_ “Kill. Feed, must feed.”  _ Turning sharply, I scan the hall and find that I am alone, the only door leading to an abandoned bathroom that is sealed shut.

 

“Draco? Do you have my cloak?” I whisper, but to no response. As much as it makes me feel slightly better, I know Draco wouldn’t mess with me like this, especially if things were as tense as they are right now. Walking faster, I am almost to the corner when it comes back.

 

_ “Kill, bloody flesh, must kill. _ ” it says, and I look around again, nervous now. Could it be a painting? Or a student?

 

“ _ Kill, getting closer, must kill. _ ” It is moving away now, closer to the bathroom back around the corner. I take a deep breath, ignoring the voice in my head that sounds like Dad telling me not to be a bloody gryffindor about this. 

 

When I round the corner, I do not expect the voices to stop completely, or to see a familiar snake seemingly as frozen as the cornish pixies.

 

“ _ Scorpius? _ ” I hiss, dropping to my knees next to the paralyzed snake, and I hesitantly touch his face, which feels cool to the touch.

 

“Innervate.” I try, but he is still. Maybe I am not strong enough? I should bring him to dad…

 

Dad! He’ll know how to fix this. Scooping up the frozen snake and holding him awkwardly, as his tail was holding his neck up off of the ground. 

 

The run to dad’s quarters seems to take forever, and by the time I’ve found the painting and pleaded enough for the guard to let me in despite having no password.

 

“What’s happened?” Dad demands, ushering me through his door and into the small kitchen. I explain as much as I can, and when I get to the voices he gives me an odd look.

 

“Very well. I must speak to Professor Dumbledore about this, a student has to be responsible and petrifying a pet is not tolerated. Do you know if it was a male or female student?” he questions, and I shake my head no. 

 

“You know you must tell Draco.” he says, and I look up sharply, the denial already on my lips.

 

“No, I can’t. We’re sort of fighting right now, can’t you just-” I begin, but his gaze has me trailing off.

 

“I will not be fighting your battles for you, and I have to go tell the Headmaster as fast as possible. I will floo into Hogsmeade first thing in the morning.” he says, and I nod. 

 

“Wait, what? Why Hogsmeade?” I ask, and he smiles. 

 

“What pet should I get Draco to soften the blow? I know Narcissa will send one anyway, and it is best if we save her the trip down here. He’ll need something positive right now. And, since he refuses to get a new wand he’ll need another magical pet to help his studies.” he says, and I grin, making a suggestion before I go. I know Draco will need all the magical help he can get, he’d already bonded with Scorpius and Narcissa has no idea about his wand, which will probably stay the same until the end of the year. The new pet, companionship thing is only a small bit of it. 

 

The common room is almost empty, save for a few NEWT students studying intensely. Walking to the dorms, I slip in to find that everyone is asleep but my curtains are drawn, meaning that Draco is back there. It’s like a small white flag, he definitely wants to talk about it then. I just hope I’m up for it, or he still is after he hears the news.

 

Knowing damn well I’m stalling, I brush my teeth and loiter in the bathroom for a while getting ready for bed. Once I’m in pyjamas that are too big and therefore perfect I slip into my enlarged bed, closing the curtains and setting up a weak silencing charm which is the best I can do in second year, but I know Draco won’t want them to hear him upset about Scorpius.

 

He is already awake, sitting up against the headboard and reading. He looks up when I slide in, and sets the book away.

 

“ _ How was detention?”  _ he asks, eyes guarded. Though I can tell the difference, there is a guard he has up when we fight, and then there is the entire battle defense he has up for literally anyone else.

 

_ “Pointless, lasted two hours longer than it should have because he was chatty. You?”  _ I ask, keeping my voice light. 

 

_ “Fine. Listen, we need to talk.”  _ He says, defeating any light mood I managed to build up.

 

_ “Okay I just-”  _ I begin, meaning to tell him about Scorpius. He looks determined, and begins speaking before I can even start.

 

_ “No, I want you to listen Harry Potter and I know you aren’t fond of it but I have something important to say and this is taking a lot out of me.”  _ he says, for once stunning me into silence.

 

_ “Okay.” _

 

_ “I wasn’t upset earlier because you’re gay, or at least not in the way you think.”  _ he starts, and I try to talk again when he shoves a hand over my mouth.

 

_ “No, listen. Merlin you’re difficult. I was upset that you had to come out that way, while we were arguing. I was telling you about Theo because I wanted to gauge your reaction, since we’ve never really talked about it. I know those awful Muggles can’t have been too keen on the subject, and the muggle world tends to be less accepting than this one so i wasn’t sure how you felt about it.”  _ he says, and I notice the odd stilt in his words. It seems, on a rare occasion Draco doesn’t know how to speak perfectly, and this usually shows he’s talking of something he cares about.

 

_ “Why would it matter? I mean, why couldn’t you just ask me instead of doing it that way?”  _ I ask, and he shrugs lightly before talking again.

 

_ “Because I am not sure what I fancy, and the fact that I’m leaning more towards blokes is hard for me to adjust to after my father. I’ve been raised with the understanding that I’ll be bonded to a pureblood girl with lots of money and influence, and we would have heirs. Mother has let me know a few times that she doesn’t want that for me, and so I’m just beginning to realize that I am allowed to fancy who I’d like, and trying to figure myself out. Plus, we’re both young and I for one know that I could change a million times as I figure things out, but I wanted to tbe sure my best mate supported the idea so that I could go to him for help.”  _ He says, his voice getting softer and softer until it cracks a little on the last sentence. I open my arms, and he folds easily into them, hugging me back.

 

_ “Blimey, you should have told me Draco, but I do understand now. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with your father like that, it’s hard enough as it is.”  _ I say, and I feel his laugh a little against my chest.

 

_ “Yes, well. This doesn’t make the whole cuddling thing awkward? Because i have a certain requirement for affection if you haven’t realized so i suppose I could convince Blaise, though more often than not he is off in a girl’s bed.”  _ He says, returning the conversation to a light joking tone, though I can tell he is asking the question genuinely. 

 

_ “True, and no, it’s the same as it has been. Listen, I have something else to talk to you about though. I should have led with this, but someone was rather insistent. I have bad news.”  _ I say, and he shifts a bit so that he is still hugging me but he can see me enough to talk.

 

_ “Okay?”  _

 

_ “I was leaving detention, when I heard a voice. It sounded odd, I would have thought it was you messing with me in the cloak but I know you’d never say the things I heard. I couldn’t see anyone, the only room on the floor was that old sealed off bathroom.”  _ I begin, and he nods with a slight crease in his forehead. 

 

_ “What did you hear?”  _ he asks.

 

_ “Things like kill, bloody, feed. It was disturbing, and so naturally I was how you so affectionately call it, ‘a stupid gryffindor’, and I went to look.”  _ I say, trying to push of the inevitable. 

 

_ “It is a wonder you aren’t dead by now.”  _ he drawls.

 

_ “Yes, well, I found something. I’m so sorry Draco, but he’s still alive so don’t worry about that.”  _ I say, and if he wasn’t paying attention before he definitely is now.

 

_ “What happened Harry?”  _

 

_ “Scorpius, he was frozen, like the pixies only more permanent. Dad says we can fix it, it will just take some time, but he’ll be perfectly normal once he’s back.”  _ I say, and he sighs shakily. I can see the tears and red begin to form in his eyes, hives popping up on his skin. He close his eyes tightly, nodding, and I hug him tighter.

 

_ “In the meantime, dad is getting you a vessel so your studies won’t fail.”  _ I say, and he takes another shaky breath.

 

_ “I hadn’t even thought of that.”  _

 

_ “Yes, well. I promise it will be okay, you’ll see.”  _ I say, holding him tight in the dark space. I hold him until he falls asleep, and I eventually follow him, drifting off the the soft noise of his snores against my chest.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first message arrives and Draco makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy, it's a bit late but a bit longer than usual so I think it balances out (maybe?).

The quidditch season begins earlier than usual, Nott wanting to get us trained since two of our chasers graduated last year. He pins a notice for tryouts on the board in the common room, announcing that previous players have to try out as well. 

 

“Think I can convince him to take me on if I buy the whole team new brooms?” Draco asks me, slinging his bag over his shoulder as we make our way to the Great Hall. 

 

“Nope. I think if you try you’ll get on, considering you’ve been flying your whole life.” Sitting at the table, I load both of our plates with food, knowing we’ll need our strength for try outs which promise to be gruelling. I argue the pros and cons with Draco of buying his way onto the team the entire morning, and I eventually throw my hands up, exasperated. 

 

“Wait until you know he won’t take you on based on talent, then. Only if he won’t take you because of talent, use money.” I say, and he nods with a small frown. 

 

“Yes, I suppose I’ll do that.” Tugging on his quidditch robes from home, I toss him his scarf from my side of the room, and he winds it around his neck. I let Ikarus wind around Draco’s stomach, they’re both taking Scorpius’ absence pretty hard and he should keep Draco grounded. 

 

The weather isn’t too bad for flying, the sun won’t be a problem while I look for the snitch. It’s freezing though, and I curse the fact that I’ve never mastered heating charms like Draco when he’d had a wand. 

 

“Alright, these tryouts are going to go smoothly. First years, clear out, you know the rules. Now, split into the position you want to make, seekers over there, chasers, beaters, and keepers.” some shuffling follows, two giggling first years breaking from the group and running to the stands instead to watch. As the small group splits, I recognize Millicent. 

 

“Hey Milly, you’re trying out for beater?” I ask, and she nods, returning my wave. She absolutely hates the nickname, but I suppose she’s given up trying to make us stop using it. I realize I’m the only seeker trying out, and I smile until Nott, smirking reminds us that he has the right to move our positions if he thinks it’ll be a better fit.

 

He has the beaters and chasers run in pairs, tossing me in with every pair of chasers. The beaters have to try to hit us, we have to try to avoid it while I go for charmed snitches that stay within fifty feet and the Chasers pass a quaffle. Draco does fairly well when I can watch, and I cheer when he scores all of his drills against the prospective keepers. 

 

By the time we’re about done I’m past the point of shivering, my hands raw and lungs burning as we all land roughly, the sky dark. 

 

“I’ll let you all know on the notice board tomorrow, some of you I can tolerate.” Nott says, and I grin knowing this is a compliment from him. Draco and I replay each moment from the tryouts, completely neglecting our homework and talking about quidditch for the rest of the night. 

 

“Why do you two do that?” Blaise asks from his bed, not as interested in our quidditch talk. I look over, confused. 

 

“Do what?”

 

“Sleep together. I’m just wondering if I can take Draco’s bed and push it against mine.” he says, using his wand to change the colour of his blanket again and again. 

 

A deep red, a soft green, a bright blue.

 

“No, I reserve the right to my bed so I can make a point and sulk when this git buggers up.” he drawls, laying on his back and watching Ikarus curl around his arm. I roll my eyes, saying goodnight to everyone before turning over to get under the covers. 

 

“Harry?” Draco whispers, just as I’m dozing off. 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Do you think you could show me where you found Scorpius?” he whispers, and I pause before muttering an agreement. I don’t see how it could do any harm showing him the corridor. 

 

“Goodnight, ‘Arry.”

 

“Night, Draco.” I mutter, half asleep. As I drift off, his head on my shoulder I press my lips to the top of his head, falling asleep with my cheek against his hair. 

 

~*~

 

“Harry get up, you git, the quidditch team cuts are up!” Draco jumps on my bed, and I groan as his pointy limbs dig into my sides and stomach. 

 

“What do they say?” I ask, rolling back into my pillow. I wonder if he’ll let me go back to sleep?

 

“I don’t know, prat. I was waiting for you.” he snaps, and I sigh before rolling out of bed. He obviously exercised some of that self-control I’ve been pushing him to adopt.

 

“Alright, let’s go look.” I say, and he somehow beats me to the door, wrenching it open and running over a sleepy Blaise on his way to the notice board. 

 

“Draco, what bloody time is it?” I ask, seeing most of the common room empty. 

 

“It’s like 5:30 or something, I don’t know, but the notice is up! Harry, bloody hell, I made it! I did it, without the money thing!” Draco says, all in a rush, jumping on me and hugging me excitedly. I grin, hugging him back and sighing in relief once I find my name as well. I’ll be seeker, Draco is a chaser. 

 

“I’ll have to tell dad. D’you want to come with me since you know for a fact I don’t go back to sleep once I’m up?” I ask, and Draco nods, still smiling. 

 

Getting dressed while Draco insists on even more quidditch talk, I let Ikarus out to go hunting before walking towards Dad’s quarters, around six. I have no idea what Draco plans to do with all this godforsaken time, classes aren’t until eight. I suppose we could do the homework we uncharacteristically skipped the night before to talk about the tryouts. 

 

“Dad, guess who made the quidditch team?” I ask loudly, walking throughout his rooms as he gives me a glare over his first cup of tea. He is quite clearly tired, and I delight in flipping all of the lights onto their highest setting.

 

“I am assuming it would be you two dunderheads.” he drawls, and I grin, pouring myself and Draco tea. 

 

“Aren’t you excited for your house to win the quidditch final?” I ask, sipping tea and holding his gaze while he frowns in my direction.

 

“Cockiness is not a good look on you, brat.” he quills, his eyes far too teasing for his words to hold any meaning. 

 

“So, I am assuming since the class is complete rubbish you wouldn’t mind if I use my ‘connection’ with Lockhart to get the grade instead of writing him a paper?” I ask, using finger quotations and knowing full well that I’ll get a lecture for the question.

 

“Shall I justify that question with an answer” Dad asks Draco, who snorts at my expense. I roll my eyes, leaning against the little counter in Dad’s kitchen area. His tea is extremely strong compared to the tea served to the students, I ‘m not really complaining but it’s definitely different. 

 

“Oh, yes. It is probably for the best you two stopped by, Draco. Your new vessel has arrived this morning.” Dad says, and I stand straighter in excitement.

 

“Would you please explain a little better what a vessel is exactly?” Draco asks, and I nod needing a better explanation as well. 

 

“Well, wands are the most common and efficient vessels. Some wizards eventually grow out of a vessel, which is where you see wandless magic. Vessels help the witch or wizard to contain their magic and control it, command it into various spells and such. Animals, especially magic borne snakes are also popular though as the language of Parseltongue died out cats and owls have become more convenient. You may also see things like family heirlooms, but once the vessels become lifeless objects that invokes an entirely different magic, which is far too dark for breakfast discussion. Now then, shall we get you acquainted before class?” he asks, standing. We both nod, following him into the sitting room where a nondescript crate sits. 

 

“Now, I wasn’t able to let her out yet since she needs to see Draco first. Sit there, okay good. I’ve taken so long to get her because I needed clearance from the Headmaster for her to accompany you to classes, it took quite a bit of convincing. Not many students are allowed vessels, you see.” Dad continues, sitting further back near me while Draco stands before the crate. The tension rises as Draco begins to unlock the door, and I suck in a breath of anticipation as it swings open, two eyes blinking open in the shadowy crate.

 

Until a spotted kitten struts out, as proud as a Malfoy and with all the natural grace cats hold. I actually let out a little laugh at the anticlimax, which comes out as more of a gasp of endearment as the absolutely tiny thing twists around Draco’s ankles. 

 

“Hello.” Draco laughs as well, entranced by the small kitten who now has two front paws on his legs, and is mewing lightly for attention.

 

He curls a hand under her small frame, tucking her into his arms as she purrs loudly, preening under the attention. 

 

“I thought you could name her.” Dad says, sipping his tea as he watches Draco meet her. Hopefully this lightens his spirit and helps his magic with his mess of a wand. 

 

“Duchess. She is royalty, after all.” he coos, and I roll my eyes once more. Only Draco could be reduced to a cooing puddle because of a kitten, even if she is that cute. 

 

We spend the rest of the morning adapting to the new kitten, who Dad explains can hunt on her own and will listen to commands as if trained. Draco tries this out a bit, with small things like asking her to jump into his lap or sit, both of which she does easily. 

 

“You two had best go to the Great Hall and eat before classes begin.” Dad finally says, shooing us out and towards the hall about ten minutes before breakfast ends. We manage to snag some food and eat on the way to Herbology, where the Mandrakes need watering and some pruning to their leaves. 

 

“D’you think you can show me where you found him tonight? I mean, I don’t know if you still want to, you were half asleep when you answered, but-” he says, and I silence him with a nod. I blush slightly, remembering how I’d gotten all sleepy and kissed his head. That wasn’t weird, right?

 

“Yea, Hermione wanted to see as well so we can all go up during dinner.” I say, and he agrees, walking over to the Gryffindor group of students to tell Hermione before class begins. The Mandrake care leaves me exhausted for lunch after a double period, and I wolf down my food with little care, leaving myself full but bored halfway through lunch. Sipping on water as Draco introduces Duchess to the table of Slytherins, I share a look with Pansy as Draco berates Blaise for patting her too hard. 

 

Charms and Potions pass fairly uneventful, and Hermione waits behind after our last class to follow us down to the kitchens for dinner, then up to the second floor where Scorpius was. He is being kept in Dumbledore’s office for now, and Dad has promised that we can visit him later this week. 

 

“I just don’t see the appeal.” Hermione laughs as Draco devours a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, something I’d introduced him to this summer. Hermione has apparently never liked them, instead eating a ham and cheese sandwich. 

 

On our way up towards the great hall from the kitchens, we pass a Slytherin I recognize that tried out for the house team, but I don’t remember seeing his name on the list. He sneers in our direction, and Hermione’s nostrils flare as she holds her head higher, not sparing a single look in his direction. 

 

“What was that all about?” I ask once he’s gone, and she shakes her head, dismissively. 

 

“He just said something nasty earlier is all, forget it.” she says, and Draco and I both stop, turning towards her. 

 

“What did he say?” Draco demands, and I nod, searching her face. He never has seemed friendly, just quiet and a bit condescending which blends well with the other upper year students. 

 

“He doesn’t like my heritage I suppose. He called me a- well, you know. A mudblood.” she says, her cheeks flushing as she furiously blinks tears away, holding her head high once more, strong in her stance despite the obvious blow the name had on her. 

 

I live in Slytherin house, so the word isn’t a new one to me though my anger at the term hasn’t wavered once I’d understood the meaning. It’s disgusting, and I hate that some wanker dared to say something rude to Hermione. 

 

“I’ll ruin him, Hermione. Don’t you worry. It’ll be slow, but when he breaks it’ll be bloody, all his connections are toast. Just you wait, he’ll be destroyed before the school year ends.” he promises vehemently, and I nod along even though I’ll only be able to help Draco. I am not the kind of natural politician he is, but I’ll fight for each and every one of my friends. 

 

“No, you guys. Don’t worry, that Weasley kid heard and hit him with a revolting ‘eat slugs’ spell. He was vomiting slugs for the better part of an hour. I’m over it, but thank you.” she says, laughing a bit. We spend another few minutes trying to convince her, becoming more and more detailed in our plans to get that kid back. They become progressively more ridiculous and far fetched, more aimed towards making her laugh than actually making sense. It works nonetheless, and by the time we reach the second floor she’s in a much better mood. 

 

Just before the corridor turns onto the hall where I found him, the floor seems shimmery, and I walk a bit closer confused. I realize it’s water, filling the floor and growing deeper the closer it moves to where I found him. 

 

“What the hell?” Draco asks, and I plunge forward into the water, moving forward towards the middle of the hall where something seems to be strung up, the water tinted red.

 

“No, no no.” I mutter, walking faster only to find that the water isn’t red, it’s reflecting the wall where red letters are painted. The thing strung up is a familiar cat, and I cover my mouth in horror at the petrified form of Mrs. Norris. 

 

“How do you always manage to find things like this? Do you realize what this is?” Draco hisses, and Hermione nods, eyes wide in fear as she looks at the scene before us.

 

Large, red letters that disturbingly resemble blood line the stone wall, decidedly written in blood and holding a terrible message. 

 

Before I can suggest we get the hell out of there, I hear the familiar rumble of footsteps coming our way as people leave the Great Hall after dinner, coming in all directions and soon filling up the corridors, students and teachers alike gasping at the words. 

 

“The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.” a nearby boy reads aloud, and I realize how bad this must look. Before I can start to explain some of it, the Headmaster steps from the midst of the students, face grave. 

 

“What is this, make way, make way. Blasted students, clogging up the corridor, I have to clean this floor you know. It doesn’t clean on it’s own, now- Mrs. Norris? My cat, who’s killed my cat!” FLich elbows past the last few students once he catches sight of his petrified cat, who I’ll agree would seem dead if I hadn’t just held a petrified animal the other day. 

 

His hysteria quickly searches for blame, and something Hermione said about the stages of grief cross my mind as he visually goes from horror and sadness to rage. Pointing a sharp finger st us, he walks right into our faces, his pores and drops of sweat visible in this proximity. 

 

“You. I’ll have you put up in Azkaban for this, knew you two were trouble since you drove that car ‘ere this summer, I’ll kill ye, I’ll kill ye!” he screams, and I don’t dare grab for my wand knowing that it won’t help my case. His hands are curled into fists, and I unceremoniously shove Draco and Hermione a few steps back, stepping closer to Filch. He can’t be worse than Uncle Vernon, and I can already hear teachers coming to intervene. 

 

Before his hands can find purchase around my neck, however, A dark cloak sweeps in front of me, and I look up to find Dad with his best don’t-fuck-with-me glare and a sneer that sends most students running, firmly in place. Filch stumbles back a bit if only from shock, and Dad seems to take a moment of great self control to lower and pocket his wand, not wavering in his stance in front of us. 

 

“Argus, Mrs. Norris will be fine. She is merely petrified, we will revive her with the next batch of Mandrake draught.” Dumbledore says, the tension holding as Filch whirls onto him for more information. 

 

“Prefects, please take your students to the common room, nobody is to leave until morning. Everyone except,” he pauses, and I grit my teeth from where we were trying to move away with the crowd.

 

“You three.” he finishes, eyes trained on us. We watch everyone else clear out, complaints of ruined wet robes and fear bumbling from the passing students. McGonagall and Dad stay with the Headmaster. Dad looks- calm, if anything. I can usually read him, and at the very most he’s mildly concerned. 

 

“Perhaps, Headmaster, these students were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Dad supplies, and I let out a small sigh of relief when he nods. 

 

“Yes, Severus. I think, though, that this confirms my earlier suspicions. We will have to investigate this further, until then, is there anything you three would like to tell me?” Dumbledore asks, his intense eyes trained on me once again. It’s extremely unnerving.

 

“Nothing, sir.” I say, feeling Draco and Hermione nod beside me. He waits a beat before turning back to Dad, nodding.

 

“Well then. Severus, if you would please take your son and Mr. Malfoy down to their dorms, Minerva I believe Miss Granger is in your house. I will be calling a staff meeting tomorrow, first thing in the morning. PLease do take extra caution for now.” he says, his tone wary and sounding rather intimidating. Dad nods, and I say goodbye to Hermione as she walks instead with Professor McGonagall. The trip down to the dungeons is brief, and Dad says a quick farewell warning us to keep Ikarus and Duchess with us tonight. 

 

For the first time in what feels like forever, Draco climbing into my bed and wrapping pointy arms around me seems to bring the comfort from the fear creeping into my chest, as I think over resparked memories of Privet Drive and think of the petrified animals, bloody letters. I sink further into his embrace, knowing that I’ll sleep well despite all of this with another person here.

 

Ikarus curls around my middle, sinking some magic here and there into tense muscles or a scratch I’d acquired during the day. Head pounding and mouth dry, I drift off to sleep after what seems like forever, sleeping much deeper than I could have hoped for. 

  
It’ll all be alright in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks to his dad and gets a broken arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kudos, and reads and comments. They really make my day, and I appreciate the constructive criticism as well! I hope you guys enjoy.

“You really should tell him, Harry.” Theo says, rolling away from his pile of homework and onto his stomach, head resting on his folded arms.

 

“I just don’t know how to go about it.” I lie, hoping to push off the inevitable. I know exactly how to go about it, or at least I have a vague plan. I do better when I wing it anyways. 

 

“I just, it will seem so much more… official once he knows. Right now it’s just my closest friends. Well, and Ikarus. But I don’t think, I mean… I know it’s who I am, and I have to accept it, but it’ll seem so real once I actually come out to my dad.” I say, trying to force my feelings into words.

 

“I think you’re still struggling with accepting it yourself, which is why you should tell your dad. If I were worried he wouldn’t accept it, then I’d never set you up be be hurt like that. But I think he can really help you here. It is genuinely okay, and it’s a part of you which you should love. It doesn’t have to define you the way you’re saying, it is a big part of you sure, but it isn’t everything. You can always grow, and change. Your Dad will accept that too, but right now this is how you feel and I think you’ll feel loads better once your dad has talked to you.” Theo says, and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. 

 

It shouldn’t be this hard, I came out to Draco no problem. And I’m perfectly fine with homosexuality, but I just don’t know what it would be like if I told everyone, what it would mean. Would I be excluded from the quidditch changing rooms? Would straight guys never speak to me again, or girls? I don’t know what I want to stay the same and what I want to change, because one moment I want to be out for the world to hear but in another I just want to hide.

 

Right now, I feel far too Gryffindor. I’m going to do it. I’ll hate the choice in the morning, but I get the feeling I need this.

 

“I’m going to go talk to Dad.” I say, standing. Theo stands as well, surprised but pleased. 

 

“Good luck, I’ll be in my dorm if you need to talk.” he says. I nod, knowing I’ll probably go to Draco instead but not bothering to voice it out loud. 

 

The walk to Dad’s goes by quickly, and I let myself in finding him drinking tea in the sitting room. He doesn’t look surprised to see me, but when Draco doesn’t follow me through the door he lifts an eyebrow.

 

“I need to talk to you.” I say, nerves picking up. Dammit, where is that odd brave feeling that eliminates fear when you need it?

 

“Of course, have a seat.” he nods, levitating some tea into my hands and waiting for me to start. He can definitely tell I’m unsure, waiting for me to speak when I’m ready.

 

I should start with a joke or something, to make this easier. Yes, that’s it. 

 

“I’m gay.” I blurt, cheeks flushing at the blunt statement. His face doesn't change, and I hurry to fix it. That’s the best I could do? Subtle, Potter. 

 

“I mean, I think I am. I don’t know. I like- I like a boy who I know, and I am also their friend and so I don’t know if that is normal friend stuff because I don’t really have many friends to compare it to, and I don’t think girls are very attractive, like at all. I don’t know though, because I don’t want to be kicked out of the changing rooms for quidditch and I don’t want the guys in the dorms to be weird because they aren’t attractive either. Only the erm, one person is. And one other boy, but that may just be curiosity since he’s gay too.” I am not fixing things. Stop speaking Harry, you’re babbling.

 

“Harry, slow down. That is perfectly okay, I’ve been expecting this talk for awhile. I assume you told this, or some of it to a friend?” he asks, the very picture of calm. How is he calm? I’m not calm!

 

“Yes. I was angry, and so I was rash and sort of said it to make a point.” I say, blushing again. When I say it aloud, it sounds very Gryffindor and hard-headed. 

 

“I see. Harry, I love you no matter what and I am sorry this is so difficult to figure out. I think this crush of yours, if he is whom I think he is, likes you back. Of course, I think it would be best for you to work out how you feel before jumping into anything. Regardless of your sexuality, you are an incredible boy and any boy or girl would be lucky to have you. Do not dwell on fears of homophobia, I can assure you they will have to deal with me, Ikarus, and Draco which creates one hell of a team.” he smiles, genuinely, and I hug him tightly. 

 

“Now. Do you think girls are pretty? Do you get sweaty and nervous around them?” he asks, and I wrinkle my nose. 

 

“No. I mean, I know when a girl is ugly or not.” I say, and he smiles.

 

“Do you look at guys a lot? Do you get nervous around them?” he asks, and I should have seen it coming but the question makes me blush.

 

“I guess.” I shrug, knowing that I do. Not all guys, just two in particular. Maybe this is a bit simpler than I’ve been making it. 

 

Besides, Dad and my friends won’t yell at me if I later date a girl. The idea of a boyfriend, and holding hands and all that rubbish is far too exciting and scary and intriguing for me to waste time trying to look at girls the way I look at boys. 

 

I’d thought I could just cap it, but that seems like so much useless effort when everyone around me seems so okay with it, when I already feel happier being out than I’ve felt in weeks.

 

“I meant to ask you, all that stuff Professor Binns said when we asked about the chamber of secrets, was it true?” I wait for his answer, afraid he won’t offer one.

 

“Well, from what I’ve heard it all seems to be correct. I don’t know what all he told you, but the legend is that Salazar Slytherin, who you have spoken to in Portrait form, wasn’t a fan of muggle borns. So, when he left he talked of the chamber he’s hidden in the castle, containing a monster only his heir can control, which will clear the school of all muggle borns.” he answers, surmising Professor Binn’s words from earlier today when Hermione asked.

 

“Thanks Dad. I’ll see you at the quidditch game, right?” I ask, standing. He rolls his eyes at the question.

 

“It is an obligation as Head of House. But yes, I’ll be cheering you and Draco on particularly. Now go get ready before Flint bursts a blood vessel.” he says, and I return to the common room with a weight off my chest and a smile.

 

~*~

 

Pansy is an absolute menace. 

 

“Harry, now that you’re on the market we must tame that hair. I know just the boy, he likes you already, he is a gryffindor but that isn’t a problem. Oh, Hermione isn’t picking up on any of my hints, I’m beginning to worry she’s straight.” she rattles on, laying on my bed as I rush to get dressed for quidditch. Pansy has know she was into girls since she was little, and so I saw no reason to be shy about telling her I’m gay. 

 

“If it’s Colin Creevey I’ll change your shampoo out for centaur manure.” I threaten, hauling her off of my bed and out the door so we can make our way to the pitch. 

 

“Oh, come on. Why not Colin?” she pouts, walking as though perfectly comfortable in the freezing October air in a skirt and socks. 

 

“He’s very nice, very straight, and very obsessed with me. I prefer someone who sees me like an equal, it makes everything easier.” I explain, and she sighs. 

 

“True, true and true. I see what you mean. Oh shit, there she is, call her over.” Pansy says, a death grip on my arm.

 

“Aren’t you two friends already?” I ask, bewildered by her wild approach. Hermione is very smart, and I’ll eat my own robes if she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on by now. So there must be some other reason, like perhaps she isn’t interested.

 

One would need a death wish to break this to Pansy. 

 

I let her run over to Hermione and Parvati Patil, opting to duck into the locker rooms where Flint glares at everyone. Draco looks sick, and I sit next to him, patting his back.

 

“You’ll do great. Don’t be nervous, if I can come out to my dad you can toss a ball around.” I tease, and his eyes widen. I just have to get him hooked on some gossip and he’ll forget his nerves. 

 

“Tell me everything later.” he demands, as the whistle blows for us to walk onto the field. I nod, smiling. 

 

The kickoff goes pretty quickly, the game running pretty close as per usual when we play against Gryffindor. Fred saves me from a bludger just as we get in the air, and I keep an eye out for bludgers along with the snitch when he seems to block me another three times within minutes. 

 

Eventually, he can’t hover around me, and so I take to flying in complex patterns, ducking and weaving throughout the stands and other players. It seems to work to some degree, but the bludger only grows more determined, moving faster and opting to hit the players and wood that get in it’s way instead of weaving like it had before.

 

“It seems we have a rogue bludger on the pitch!” Lee Jordan shouts into his charmed microphone, and I barely duck the dark ball when I finally see the snitch.

 

Just behind the other seeker, who is looking in the opposite direction I see the tiny golden ball, and I press my torso against my broom to pick up speed, shooting towards the now startled gryffindor. He realizes what I’ve seen moments too late, falling into pace next to me and then falling behind ever so slowly, the bludger threatening both of us.

 

The bloody snitch refuses to stay still, eventually diving and ducking under the stands, where I follow it to hear the other seeker on my heels and the bludger demolishing the wooden frame as we go. 

 

The snitch makes a sudden turn, out of the stands and back onto the pitch but very close to the ground. I’m so close, if I could just go a bit faster, my arm is almost long enough-

 

_ Holy fuck that hurt _ ! The bluder ran straight through my outstretched arm, and I cradle the broken limb to my chest, still so close to the snitch. I can’t give up now, I have to win Draco’s first game.

 

I’m going to fall, but I’m going to get the snitch first. Taking my good hand off of the broom and losing some control of the steering, I close my fingers around the elusive ball just as I slip, tumbling off of the broom and skidding on the ground below.

 

I did it! I look around as Lee Jordan announces the final score, my smile fading quickly as the bludger lands just next to my head. Up in the air again, to land on my other side as I move away in the nick of time, then right by my leg. 

 

The next time it goes up in the air for momentum, it explodes, Hermione’s spell effective as she and Pansy run onto the field, my team landing around me. 

 

“You okay mate?”

 

“That’s a bloody mess.”

 

“Fred, George, you two are beaters for a reason! Why is my seeker’s arm broken!”

 

“Honestly Flint, it was clearly tampered with.”

 

Draco lands next to me, tossing his broom down and jostling my broken arm, causing me to hiss in pain.

 

“Not to worry, I’ll take care of that!” an all too familiar voice floats towards us, and I lean further into Draco and away from Lockhart as he takes out his wand.

 

“No. Not you.” I say, but he ignores this with a bright smile, taking my arm. 

 

“Ah, yes. I’ve done this a thousand times.” he says, casting the spell with a dramatic flick of his wand. I feel the pain, and the movement control melt away as the limb is left seemingly boneless. 

 

“Well, sometimes that can happen. The important thing to remember, is that it is no longer broken.” Lockhart says, laughing. This idiot!

 

“There’s no bones left!” Draco and I cry in sync, and Lockhart opens his mouth to reply when he is cut off by a pissed-looking Severus Snape.

 

“Mr. Lockhart, if you are done experimenting on a minor who happens to be my son, I would like to take him to Poppy, a qualified witch who is fit to return his arm to normal.” he snaps, helping me up as Draco stands as well, Lockhart glaring and opening his mouth before closing it several times, much like a fish. 

 

Walking up to the castle, Draco and I begin to mess with the ‘jelly arm’ as he deemed it, bending it in half, or using it to hit him.

 

“You’ll most likely have to spend the night, Poppy can heal bones in seconds, but growing them back anew is tricky and painful.” Dad explains grimly, glaring over his shoulder once more even though Lockhart is still in the pitch. 

 

“Great. Hey, dad, can Draco come visit me?” I ask hopefully. I don’t like dreamless sleep, it leaves me oddly heavy feeling. But if I don’t take it, I’ll have nightmares. 

 

I’d much rather just sleep with Draco and Ikarus. 

 

“No. And I will be needing your cloak for the night to ensure you actually rest.” he says, smirking as we make sounds of disappointment behind him. 

 

Madame Pomfrey is exasperated to see me, and once I explain what’s happened she sends Dad and Draco off to eat before coming back to visit. She actually lets me eat in bed, though it is a slow process trying to use my non-dominant hand. 

 

“You’re just like your father, always in here for something or another.” she smiles, rather fondly as she takes my empty dishes for the house elves to retrieve. 

 

“Which one?” I ask, taking the awful medicine with a grimace. She thinks for a moment before answering.

 

“Yes.” I laugh, trying to imagine my Dad getting into trouble. From what I’ve heard, I know my father was a troublemaker with his friends, but Dad’s always seemed to be a bookworm at heart.

  
“Now, you get some sleep young man. Your dosage of Dreamless sleep is right there.” she points before walking to the end of the room, disappearing into her chambers for the night. As I stare at the high ceiling, I heave a sigh and try to get comfortable. It’ll be a long night. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A student is petrified, and a new club is announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am beginning to prefer writing in third person, but I know how annoying perspective changes can be in the middle of a story or series. Do you think it would be too annoying if it changed over the next few chapters, or should I wait until I begin the third book? Anyways, how you enjoy!

What keeps stepping on my legs? Draco isn’t that small, and I can’t feel him in the bed anyways. It smells weird too, what’s going on?

 

Opening my eyes I glance around the dark infirmary, remembering the previous quidditch game. My arm hurts terribly, and I look in vain for pain relieving potion on my bedside table. Instead I grab my glasses, shoving them unceremoniously onto my face and finding a familiar house elf on my legs.

 

“Dobby?” I ask in disbelief. The wide, bright eyes looking back at me move as he nods. 

 

“Harry Potter sir, Dobby is so terribly sorry, but Dobby had to do it!” he squeaks, and I am reminded of his high volume. I shake my head, blocking his hands from flying towards the medicine bottles on the table, which he no doubt would have hit himself with.

 

“Dobby, what are you on about? Sorry about what?” I ask, trying to regain his attention. He isn’t quite crying, more shivering in obvious distress. 

 

“I had to, sir. Harry Potter must not be here! I thought you would understand with the train, but you-” he wrings his hands together, talking a mile a minute.

 

“Hang on, what do you mean? You stopped the barrier from letting Draco and me through? And that bludger today, that was you too wasn’t it? Dobby, I’m not leaving Hogwarts. Please stop hurting me!” I say, trying to get the message through to the stubborn little elf. I take in the many bandages and scars on his little body that weren’t there before, and wince. I never want to meet Draco’s father. 

 

“Harry Potter is not safe here! The Chamber has been opened, you won’t- oh dear. I shouldn’t have said that!” he reaches again for something to hit himself with, resorting intead to his own fists when I block him. I wrestle with him for a moment, until I am sure he isn’t hurting himself. While I don’t want to force Dobby into anything, I can’t end up in here again. I decide the only way to fix this will be giving him a direct order.

 

“Dobby, I command you to stop trying to make me leave Hogwarts.” I say, choosing my words carefully so as to set the boundaries but not confine him into never helping me again. 

 

He looks as though he’d like to argue, but can’t. I am about to apologize when the hospital doors bang open, and he disappears with a crack. 

 

Lying down and faking sleep, I watch through my lashes as first Dumbledore, then Mcgonagall sweep through the doors, levitating something between them. It looks disturbingly like a body, and I realize it is a student when they set him or her gently onto the closest bed. 

 

They are clutching something to their eye, and I realize belatedly that they must be petrified. 

 

“Where was he, Minerva?” DUmbledore asks gravely, staring down at the boy as Ms. Pomfrey walks out, in her bed clothes and frazzled. 

 

“On the second floor, near the others. He seems to have been sneaking up here to visit Mr. Potter. He is quite a fan, it seems.” she says, her voice a bit shaky. I have never heard Mcgonagall shaken, and knowing she is anxious sets my hair on end. 

 

This is my fault, he was coming to visit me. I know who it is now without hearing a name, that must be his camera clutched to his face. Poor Colin, I don’t know how I can ever fix this. 

 

“Well, he is still alive. We will unpetrify him with the others, when the mandrakes mature. Poor boy, do you think he caught anything on that muggle device of his?” Pomfrey asks, pulling the covers around Colin’s form. I watch Dumbledore pry the camera from his frozen hands, opening the film when a purple smoke erupts from the machine, smoking and making an odd popping sound. 

 

“Nothing, as I feared.” Dumbledore sighs. 

 

“Albus, what does this mean?” McGonagall asks, and from her tone I can tell she already knows what. 

 

“I am afraid, Minerva, that the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again.” he answers, and I can’t help the sharp inhale as I realize what that could mean for me, Hogwarts was my first real home. And Dad won’t have a job any longer, what if I’d never see Draco again? They’ll have to close the school, only a maniac would keep us here after this.

 

I am left to my worries as the teachers disperse and the sun begins to rise, sleep never coming. 

 

~*~

 

“That’s what they said?” Draco asks again, for the third time. As soon as I was freed from the Hospital I’d rushed to the common room to tell Draco and Pansy, who then left to tell Hermione in the Great Hall. 

 

“Yes. I can’t believe he’s petrified, why would he risk that just to visit me?” I ask, and Draco studies me for a moment before rolling his eyes. 

 

“Do not go all heroic on me, Potter. This isn’t your fault, it is a shitty situation but you can’t blame yourself. So, you said it happened on the second floor? So far it’s only been there, so I assume the teachers will just close down that floor for the most part. Look.” he nods to the head table, where Dumbledore is standing up. He raises his hands for silence, which only takes a moment to fall for his announcement. 

 

“The Halloween Feast has been followed by a most unfortunate occurrence, and I am afraid it is no longer safe for our students to roam the corridors alone. If your schedules require you to pass through the second floor, a teacher will escort you to and from the room. Curfew will be reinforced, and will be an hour earlier, with no exceptions. If you need to leave your common rooms, you are to notify your head of house. Now, please go straight to your dormitories after dinner, your Heads and Prefects will escort you.” he says, his voice holding that odd sense of magical power and wisdom only Dumbledore has.

 

“That’s almost all of our classes.” Draco complains next to me, and I nod. I don’t see what kind of creature could be contained to one floor, perhaps the thing petrifying people is a curse of some sort?

 

“Thank you, Headmaster. Yes, I have an announcement as well, students, please do come back. Alright.” Lockhart scrambles to the podium, shouting over the hum of conversation that began once Dumbledore finished, and I look back in amusement. 

 

“Do not fear, I know some of you are scared because of these occurrences but there is no reason for nerves or worry.” he begins, and Dumbledore’s voice, carrying over his easily, interrupts him.

 

“Students, you should be cautious. I would not advise fear, but do not take this lightly.” he says, and Lockhart carefully masks the glare sent behind him.

 

“Yes. I only mean, with myself and the new club I am introducing, you shall be well equipped to face anything.” he says, and McGonagall holds a hand to her forehead behind him. Dad looks like he is carefully refraining from laughing, while also managing to glare at Lockhart.

 

“That is right, students. I am leading a new Duelling Club, with the help of any colleague of mine, should anyone so desire to help me. Anyone? Ah, Professor Snape, wonderful. Yes, the club shall be held in the dining hall after dinner tomorrow night, we shall establish a schedule then.” Dad purses his lips, and I laugh at his sour expression. He and Lockhart alike both turn to glare at me.

 

“Quidditch practice is tomorrow night, Professor.” McGonagall says, taking a sip from her goblet when he turns to her, eyes twitching.

 

“Fine. The night after tomorrow, then. Dismissed! Go!” he says, voice a bit shrill. For someone who has weathered so many creatures, he doesn't hold up well under stress. Or when his plan doesn’t go perfectly.

 

“I’ve got to see this.” I grin, and Draco nods. The ravenclaws and gryffindors don’t look happy, and I realize why when Pansy sidles up to us in the crowd having been over by Hermione.

 

“They have to pass the second floor to get to their common rooms.” she says, and I nod. 

 

“That’s rubbish, kind of like going to the dungeons for safety, whilst a troll roams the dungeons.” Draco says, and I laugh while Pansy rolls her eyes.

 

“You’ll never let that go.” she shakes her head. 

 

“No. Harry, can we ask your Dad for good seats during the duelling fiasco?” Draco asks, laughing. I consider the idea, deciding we’ll just have to arrive early.

 

“Hey, did either of you do that Transfiguration essay yet?” Pansy asks once we’re in the common room, sitting across from us in a group of couches to the corner.

 

“Nope.” I shake my head at the same time Draco denies it. I don’t have to look over to feel him smirking next to me. 

 

“Liars. I assume I’ll be left on my own for this one then?” she pouts, and I raise an eyebrow.

 

“Considering you still owe us for three assignments just this year, yes. Work until curfew, and if you still aren’t finished I’ll help you. Deal?” I hold out a hand in question, which she eyes warily before shaking,

 

“I need another way to pay you guys back. I hate being in debt.” she scowls, moving notes and parchment around until she has her half-finished essay in front of her.

 

“Yea, yea. We’ll find something, I’m sure.” Draco waves his hand, and Duchess follows the movement with a flick of her tail. 

 

Pansy ends up working until just before the curfew, holding the wet parchment up triumphantly and setting it aside to dry, cracking her back satisfactorily. 

 

“Guess I’m only in a bit of debt after all.” she teases, and I roll my eyes. I’d nodded off for a while, until Draco began teasing me that I’m the only Slytherin who would risk falling asleep in the common room. It’s not that anyone would harm you, perse, but it does show considerable weakness if your social standings are unsteady. 

 

“Right, because you wouldn’t hex anyone who looked at me funny.” I quip, and he sneers, having no real comeback. 

 

“Let’s go to bed then, I want my beauty sleep for this duelling club tomorrow.” Draco stands, and I hold out a hand for him to pull me up. He does so with far too much grace, and feeling some weird fire in the pit of my stomach at how easily he is moving I shoulder check him, the feeling diminishing somewhat. 

 

“Arse.” he whines, rubbing his shoulder, and I grin. When we walk into the dorms, Blaise is the only one awake. 

 

“Hey, Draco. Fair warning mate, some rumors are flying around that you’re behind the attacks and the blood on the walls.” Blaise says quietly, and I chuckle at the notion. Draco may be a prick, but he’s as skittish and soft as a hippogriff. 

 

“Why not me?” I pout, changing into some pyjamas as Draco moves around to get his shower things. 

 

“ _ Hey, I want to sleep, can’t you shower in the morning? I promise it isn’t as bad as you think.”  _ I hiss before Blase replies, and Draco wrinkles his nose before nodding, setting his toiletries back down and getting into night clothes. 

 

“Please. You trip over your own two feet every five steps, you’ve managed to talk Draco Malfoy into forgetting blood stereotypes he was born into, you are the only Slytherin I know with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends. Plus, nobody outside of our friends knows about your pet, or your weird gift which would be the only real bit of evidence against you.” he answers, matter of fact and a tiny bit condescending.

 

“Fine, but I happen to like the way I am. And Draco is the softest person I know, I didn’t talk him into anything.” I say, but both Draco and Blaise look at me oddly.

 

“What?” I demand, feeling nervous under their gazes.

 

“I am not soft, I am a right bitch when I want to be and I tend to think of how a situation benefits me before anything else. I don’t know why you always insist I’m easy to be around, or soft. You’re just the only idiot stubborn enough to deal with me so often.” He steals a little rubber band from Blaise’s nightstand, pulling his hair into a little tail so that it’s out of his face. 

 

“True. Now go cuddle and keep it down, I have to sleep. Just wanted to tell you about the rumors.” Blaise yawns, drawing his curtains. Climbing into bed, I fight with Draco over the better pillow for a moment until he wins, and I summon one of his barely touched pillows for myself.

 

“Arse.” he pokes my side, and I shy away from the touch, ticklish.

 

“Git.”

 

“‘M not soft.” he grumps, arms folded.

 

“You’re a marshmallow.”

 

“Fight me, Potter.”

  
“Maybe in duelling club.” I yawn, my eyes drooping shut before I can hear his response.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duels and plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm behind, I am really sorry. I hope you guys enjoy!

“Take Ikarus.” 

 

“What? Why?” Draco asks, looking back to me from his spot in the crowded Great Hall. I slip him the snake while I talk, and he lets Ikarus wind around his middle under his robes.

 

“In case they ask for volunteers and you go up, they won’t let Duchess follow you and you need some kind of vessel.” he nods, and I almost laugh at the sight of dad standing next to Lockhart, the very picture of disgust. He’s dressed like normal, in all black robes that clash with Lockhart’s horribly bright orange ones, embellished with golden chains and buttons in various places. 

 

“Those robes are a abomination.” Draco hisses, glaring at Lockhart’s clothes.

 

“Well, they’re better than his lime green ones.” I shrug, and he sneers. Draco absolutely hates all of Lockhart’s more, er, festive robes. This makes class interesting along with the lesson plans purely designed to impress us rather than teach anything. 

 

Lockhart climbs onto the single table left in the hall, creating a raised run way to duel. The students quiet down, nobody wanting to miss anything for various reasons. While some students look determined, like they came here to genuinely learn, most of the slytherins and some gryffindors are here purely for the entertainment.

 

“Ladies, and gentlemen. Welcome, to the fine Duelling Club of Hogwarts Academy of magic, founded by Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin Third Class. I am assisted today by my colleague, Mr. Severus Snape, who will now join me on the stage for an example.” Lockhart says, speaking in the third person then gesturing to Dad. 

 

He takes off the outer layer of his formal robes, tossing it to a small group of wrestling girls and boys alike who swoon over the fabric. This is ridiculous, coming from someone who definitely fancies blokes, and I can’t see the appeal.

 

“Now. First, we pace to opposite ends of the duelling ground.” Striding the length of the table, Lockhart is now about thirty feet from Dad, his wand at his side.

 

“Then, we bow.” Keeping his eyes trained on Dad, he bends into a bow with his wand in front of his face. He is positively thriving on having all eyes on the stage.

 

“On the count of three.” he says, quieter now though everyone can hear in the silent room.

 

“One, Two,” he says, skipping three and waving his wand about as though he is preparing to cast a spell, though he wants to make a spectacle of it.

 

“ _ Expelliarmus _ !” Dad yells, and the power of the spell not only disarms Lockhart of his wand but seems to hit him in the chest full force, sending him flying a few feet back landing on his rump.

 

“Yes, excellent, example Professor Snape. However, I think we could benefit from starting with more defensive spells.” Getting to his feet and frustratedly forcing himself to breath regularly rather than catching his breath, which backfires in his speech. 

 

“That was a defensive spell, Professor. I believe the difference can be found in how much magical force the caster puts behind the spell.” Dad responds dryly, earning a glare from Lockhart.

 

“Now, how about some students give it a try?” Lockhart suggests, and the crowd of students begin to chatter in excitement. This seems to be a pattern of his, throwing kids in danger to regain attention. It’s rather disastrous, really. 

 

“Potter, Malfoy.” Lockhart says, whirling around to spot us where we were muttering in parseltongue. Draco slips into his public persona, striding to the table with grace as I stomp behind him. I didn’t come here to be gawped at. 

 

“Did you give him Ikarus?” Dad whispers as I pass him, and I nod watching him visibly relax. Lockhart reaches over and grabs hold of my sleeve, pulling me to his side of the runway and ignoring my protests. 

 

“Right, boys. Meet in the middle, now.” Lockhart says, and I watch Draco smirk as he strides to the middle, reaching it before me due to having longer legs. Arsehole. 

 

Lifting my wand before my face, I smirk back at the splinters of his wand, and he narrows his eyes. This is a game, and one I intend to win. I never get to go against Draco magically, we spend our time fighting with words and being a team instead, so this is rather interesting. He’s the only person who matches my wit and banter, so I wonder if it is the same way with magic. 

 

“Scared, Potter?” he jests, and I ignore the rush of warmth in my chest at his challenging stare, the magic radiating from both of us. 

 

“You wish.” I reply, and if possible his eyes light up more in a dare, in excitement. Turning as he turns I stride back towards my end of the table, oddly charged as my body tenses for what is about to come. Turning back around, I can still feel the magic as he meets my gaze across the table, white hair gleaming in the dim room. 

 

We don’t lower our gaze as we bow, coming back up into defensive stances. He looks the very image of wizard, born and raised into the title and persona of someone powerful, even as a boy. 

 

“On the count of three, one. Two.” Lockhart begins, but Draco moves on two and I hastily begin to move as well.

 

“ _ Everte Statum _ !” Draco yells, the purple blast of light from his wand travelling towards me quickly. 

 

“ _ Protego _ !” I say, tossing the shield up and waiting a moment as the spell hits it. Adrenaline coils in my arms, and I grin. So that’s how we’ll play it. 

 

“ _ Rictusempra _ !” I shout, firing the curse towards him. I can practically hear his jest, a tickling curse, really Potter? 

 

“ _ Protego! Confringo _ !” He deflects, and I vaguely realize how fast this all must be happening, but time seems slowed down a bit. 

 

“ _ Protego! Locomotor mortis _ !” I toss back, and the spell rebounds off of the shield he tosses up wordlessly. That is advanced magic, and I mentally congratulate him, we’ve been working on wordless magic for a week or so now once he’d read about it in a book. We haven’t been able to do a shield charm yet, though. 

 

“ _ Incarcerous _ !” he fires, and I try a shield charm silently, and while it is feeble it works. I grin, feeling a rush of magic and adrenaline combined as our magic fires off, back and forth, as we seem to be in perfect time with one another already knowing the other’s body language to deflect their next spell in time. 

 

“ _ Stupefy _ !” I shout, and at this point it’s just the challenge of seeing which shield charm goes up faster, without words. 

 

“ _ Serpensortia _ !” he shouts, and I almost laugh, leaving down a shield charm but watching him still. The thin black snake that shoots from his wand lands in the middle of the table, and I realize after a moment of watching him that he won’t shoot another curse. He is daring me to get rid of the snake without talking to it and divulging my secret, and I send him a glare. 

 

Right, what spell could I use? Before I can think of one, Lockhart is sending the snake flying into the air, and I wince at it’s hiss of pain before it lands with a smack back onto the table, now angry. The seething snake whirls around, not finding Lockhart but instead a student, I think Justin is his name. 

 

“ _ Kill, feed _ .” it hisses, and I don’t pause to consider the consequences before I am shouting at it. 

 

“ _ No! That is a friend, you mustn’t hurt him. I will get you outside, you can hunt there, but no humans.” _ I say, and the snake whirls onto me, baring it’s fangs in obvious distaste for my words.

 

“Finite Incantatem.” Dad casts, wand pointed at the snake which vanishes completely. The hall is silent, and I wonder if trying to explain would make things worse. 

 

“What the hell? What’re you playing at?” Justin yells, scared and glaring at me. I realize that he couldn’t hear me, he didn’t know I was helping him.

 

“He told it to stop, you bloody moron.” Draco snaps, appearing next to me. He stands close enough that the folds of our robes hides it, but he squeezes my hand in a reassuring manner. 

 

“Boys, over here. Professor, I will escort these two to their common room, if you would please call more professors to escort the rest of the houses.” Dad says, and Lockhart nods, looking dumbfounded before jumping back into character and speaking to the crowd in an animated voice. 

 

“Don’t blame yourselves, it was bound to happen at some point. I think it would be best to keep some alibis for your whereabouts for the next few weeks, this is an unfortunate time to show traits of the heir of SLytherin.” Dad says, and Draco’s hand is now hanging only linked to mine by his pinky as we walk, and I am grateful for it. There will no doubt be tons of rumors, and I try to prepare mentally. 

 

“I would like to congratulate you two on your duel, that looked excellent for our house, especially considering that you are second years. Wandless magic takes a large amount of focus, and knowing so many duelling spells is also impressive. Good work.” Dad says, leaving us at the entrance to the common room, smiling. 

 

Draco says the password, the stone wall melting into a door which shows an almost empty common room. Only some NEWT students stayed behind, and they paid no mind as we crossed the room to the dorms. 

 

“Well, that could have gone better.” Draco says carefully, and I study him for a moment before finding the emotion he’s trying to hide, guilt.

 

“Draco, that was not your fault. Really, I’m not mad. Besides, you ended up saying you could speak it too, like Dad said, we just need to lay low for a while.” I say, and he looks at me for a moment, trying to find the empty emotion but realizing I’m truly not mad. He nods, beginning to go about his bedtime routine and I smile to myself when he forgoes showering to shower in the morning, something he’s been doing a lot more of.

 

_ “I thought it was all very funny.” _ Ikarus hisses, and I roll my eyes. Of course he would, his humor has grown to be quite cruel and dry, something I suspect has to do with how much time he spends around a certain blonde. 

 

“ _ Think of how scared everyone will be of us now that they think we’re behind the attacks. We’ll have to talk in parseltongue more often.”  _ Draco says, climbing into my bed and pulling the drapes so that is enlarges. The spell is rather tricky so as to not let the others know we’ve altered our beds, technically it’s against the rules. Though it’s a bit thick of them t think two boys can fit in a twin comfortably.

 

_ “Hm. Only if they give us a reason to be rude, I imagine Ron is having a spree with this one, what do you think he’s told them by now?”  _ I ask, pulling my side of the drapes.

 

_ “That we’ve started a pure blood cult.”  _ Draco shrugs, using my wand to hover a ball of golden light near the top of the bed illuminating the space. 

 

_ “Right, and I’m the half-blood leader.”  _ I snort, watching as he grins back. Sometimes, when he’s tired or extra comfortable, he’ll smile and his canines will show, making him look playful and bright. It’s rare, but it’s wonderful. Like one of his best kept secrets, that he can literally light up a space with his smile as his mood helps the ball of light intensify. 

 

_ “I am too, you know. Pretty sure we have some veela blood in there somewhere, not enough to make any difference but enough to piss my father off.”  _ he says, and I consider this. I don’t know much about veelas, I’ll have to research them. I know they’re pale and light haired, though. 

 

_ “Explains your old man hair.”  _ I say, and he glares at me. 

 

_ “Hey! At least I know how to groom my hair.”  _ he shoots back, shoving a hand through my hair to mess it up further. 

 

_ “Well, I’m pretty sure you like my hair considering you haven’t made any effort to fix it.”  _ I raise an eyebrow, and I think he flushes but I can’t be sure in the lighting. 

 

_ “I just don’t have the energy, Potter.”  _ He sniffs, and I laugh. Thinking back to what I said about Ron, I imagine trying to get him to say anything to my face, though he isn’t an idiot enough to let any teachers know he is spreading rumors. 

 

_ “Right. Hey, you know what would be fun?”  _ I ask, and he lights up at the mischief in my voice. 

 

_ “What?” _ he asks, shifting closer in anticipation. Suddenly, the space seems very small. Trying to shake off the odd feeling, I focus on what I was thinking. 

 

_ “If we brewed polyjuice potion and snuck into the gryffindor common room, mess with Ron a bit and find out what rumors he’s spreading.”  _ I say, and his eyebrows lift, impressed. 

 

_ “Bloody brilliant, we’ll have to talk to ‘Mione so we get the right hairs and don’t cause suspicion.”  _ he says, and I nod. No doubt we’ll need her help to pull this off.

 

_ “When shall we do it?” _

 

_ “Hm. We’ll ask her in the morning, get a better idea of what we should ask. Polyjuice takes a while, we should ask your dad to make some and see if he’ll help us.”  _ He says, and I consider this. I’d prefer not to lie to my dad, and he wouldn’t really support this. 

 

_ “Yea, maybe. G’night Draco.”  _ I yawn, and he vanishes the ball of light, lying down as well. 

 

_ “Night, scarhead.” _

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is really good at looking guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys!

“Hey Harry, are we still on for saturday?” Theo asks, sliding one leg over the bend and sitting so that he faces me during breakfast. I nod, my mouth embarrassingly full of bacon, and he sends me a bright smile before moving his other leg under the table and turning to talk to his mates, his knee settling against mine and causing me to blush.

 

“ _ What’s on Saturday?”  _ Draco asks, an odd expression on his face that I can’t quite place. Sitting on my other side is a bouncing Pansy, who looks ready to answer the question herself but hesitant because the subject is two feet from her. She has manners, after all.

 

“ _ We’re hanging out.”  _ I shrug, trying to ignore his silver eyes boring into me and filling me with an odd guilt, though I haven’t done anything wrong. So what if I’m hanging out with Theo? He just so happens to be gay as well, and he may or may not be calling it a date, but my best mate has no reason to be mad at me. 

 

“ _ Why?”  _ he asks, and I meet his eyes, confused. 

 

“Harry, you should teach me parseltongue too, it’d be so fun to know what you’re saying and share secrets.” Theo says, settling a hand on my forearm which rests on the table. Draco looks at his hand with a venomous glare, and I try to diffuse whatever this tension is. 

 

“Erm, maybe. It’s kind of hard to teach.” I say, and Draco licks his lips, which is a tell that means he’s about to put someone in their place. 

 

“Only Harry and I know the language, he isn’t teaching anyone else. A rare language isn’t something you simply share to any bloke interested in you, or rather, your scar.” he snaps, standing and leaving in a huff. What the hell? 

 

How dare he! Theo isn’t like that, and it’s not Draco’s place to talk to anyone like that, as if he were speaking for me. I can choose to hang out and date whom I please, and I thought he would have the grace to support me rather than imply that I’m only interesting because of my fame. 

 

I stand as well, ignoring Pansy and Theo and leaving angry. I don’t talk when I’m angry, I know damn well Draco is the only one who doesn’t go running when I speak harsh words. 

 

The bell for class rings, and I ignore it, ducking into a broom cupboard until the halls are silent and the classes have begun. Walking the empty corridors, I thankfully avoid running into any teachers, and I only meet Peeves who is throwing paint bombs at the paintings on the first floor. 

 

Deciding that since I’m not going to class, I may as well go outside to clear my head I begin the trek towards Hagrid. 

 

He doesn’t answer his door, so I walk around to the back of his house, finding him in a mass of feathers and what looks like blood.

 

Typical Hagrid.

 

“Harry! Shouldn’t ye be in class?” he asks, clapping a bloody hand on my shoulder and making me stumble. I grin up at him, my anger ebbing away at his smiling face. Ignoring his question, I ask one of my own instead.

 

“What are you doing?” I point to the feathery, bloody mess in a little cage thing. 

 

“Ah. Well, somethin’s been gettin ter the chickens, they’re all dead. This is the second time this year, can’t figure out what’s doin it.” he shakes his head, obviously at a loss. My stomach drops as I realize that Ikarus, and similar snakes all eat chickens. I’ll have to talk to him later. 

 

We eat some rock cakes with tea, and I pet Fang until it’s about ten minutes until the end of class. I no doubt have dad to face, so I say my goodbyes giving Hagrid a hug and promising to visit soon before heading back to the school.

 

I have transfiguration next, and I’ll be seeing Draco and Pansy who will no doubt demand an explanation. Walking up to the third flood, I am almost outside of the transfiguration hall when I stop dead in my tracks. 

 

A pair of feet stick out at the bend in the hall, and I grit my teeth before creeping around the corner, dread in my stomach when my fears are confirmed. A petrified student, and this time a ghost hovers nearby. Walking over to it, I realize it is the gryffindor ghost.

 

“Sir Nicholas? Did you see what hurt- erm, Justin?” I ask the ghost, once recognizing the student’s face. The ghost doesn’t answer, and it takes me a moment to realize that it must also be petrified. How does that even work?

 

Before I can get a teacher, Peeves rounds the corner, grinning maliciously at the sight before him. 

 

“Oh, dear Potty, what have we got here?” I move forward to explain, to keep him quiet, but before I can move he’s screaming at the top of his voice, the classrooms around me bursting open and people flooding out.

 

Well, shite. McGonagall is the first teacher out, and the students are shocked silent until she arrives, when they break into angry mutters and accusations. A second year hufflepuff near me, Ernie Macmillan I think, is especially angry.

 

“You’ve attacked him! Just before, you set a snake on him, and now you’ve come back to finish him!” he shouts, and McGonagall sweeps up to me, cutting off all of the shouting students as everyone strains to hear what she says to me. 

 

“Mr. Potter, to the Headmaster’s office. Everyone, please return to your classrooms, Professor Flitwick, would you please take these two to the hospital wing?” Turning away from me, but leaving a hand on my shoulder she addresses the other professors, who all try to control the muttering students and keep them away from Justin and the ghost. 

 

I don’t even bother trying to convince McGonagall I’m innocent, I’ll just dig myself into a deeper hole and I’ll need to convince Dumbledore anyway. 

 

She leads me through corridors until I’m sure we’re deep in the castle, though in a less frequented area. She stops in front of a statue of a gargoyle, taller than I am and the only decoration in this hallway. It doesn’t look like much, though I suppose that is what our entrances should be. 

 

“Lemon drop.” she says clearly, her voice in the sudden silence seeming sharp and fierce. The gargoyle reacts to the password, springing to life and moving aside to reveal an empty doorway, and a thin spiral staircase that spins upwards once we step onto it. The trip is short but I studiously avoid McGonagall’s gaze, she is turning out to be more terrifying that Dad when she wants to be. 

 

When the staircase stops in front of a plain wood door, she knocks once waiting as the door swings open on it’s own. She nods for me to walk in, and then abruptly turns back to descend the once more moving staircase, saying to wait for the Headmaster. The door swings shut as soon as I’ve walked in, and I turn nervously to scan the room. 

 

It is circular, the walls covered in portraits of what I assume are past Headmasters, most snoozing in their frames but some eyeing me with curiosity. The room is two levels, a thin catwalk covering on half of the wall and disappearing into a back room, the staircase leading up to it just as thin and unextraordinary. There are countless trinkets and silver metallic things covering every surface, some spinning, some smoking, some making animal noises. I can’t figure out what a single one of them is supposed to do. 

 

His desk is in the center of the room, shelves behind it, and I recognize the sorting hat resting on the top of the shelf. Walking over and deciding to sate my curiosity, I barely make it to his desk when a bird I hadn't noticed in all of the moving objects crows at me, perched on a stand that looks oddly like an ashtray. 

 

It has beautiful crimson feathers, some smattered with gold towards his head and stomach. It seems like some patches are missing, but before I can get a better look the bird bursts into flames. 

 

“What the- shite, no, come back.” I mutter, moving to stare in horror at the fresh pile of smoldering ashes. Well, if I didn’t look guilty before then this will do it. Maybe I can say that one of those weird silver trinkets did it?

 

“Ah, Harry.” Dumbledore says, and I spin around, forcing myself to look calm while I think of excuses.

 

“Sir, I- your bird, it just caught fire.” Smooth, Harry. I can practically feel Draco rolling his eyes at me.

 

“And about time too. Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. He burns up when he is ready to die, and then he is reborn from the ashes.” he says, descending the staircase calmly. Looking back to the bird perch, I find that he is right and a tiny pink bird is nosing out of the ashes, a soft fuzzy down covering it’s skin. 

 

Tentatively reaching out a finger, the little bird allows me to pet his head, beak opening in a squeak. I pet the bird as Dumbledore moves around the desk, sitting down as a tea tray appears on his desk. I make sure to keep eye contact, usually liars look away. 

 

Before either of us can start speaking, his office door bangs open and the man has to duck to make it through the doorway. Hagrid is still holding a chicken, dangling bloody from his hand as he moves into the suddenly small office. 

 

“Professor Dumbledore sir, I need ta talk to yer. ‘Arry didn’t do it, I was with him, I know fer a fact that he wouldn’t, couldn’t- in fact, I’d be willing to swear it in front of the Minister of Magic himself-” he speaks quickly, words meshing together as he waves his hand. Dumbledore regards him with a smile, cutting him off.

 

“Hagrid! I do not believe that Harry is guilty.” he says, and I turn to him, surprised. 

 

“You don’t?” I ask, and he shakes his head. Hagrid visibly blushes, muttering about waiting in the hall and shutting the door carefully behind him. I’d laugh if I weren’t so thankful that he would stand up for me. 

 

“No, I do not believe you are guilty. I will leave it to your father to decide your punishment for skipping class, please do avoid it in the future. In case you were unaware, we have an attacker on the loose. However, the students and admittedly some of the staff believe that you are the heir of Slytherin, they are asking for me to remove you from the school for questioning. I will do no such thing, you are innocent until proven guilty.” he says, and I don’t bother to point out that I’d been found in a pretty guilty looking situation already. 

 

Even the staff are suspicious? I can’t get any school work done if the library is full of whispers and the people in my own common room are asking to be in on the secret, as if it’s a game. As if I could be the Heir, I supposedly come from a line that shines Gryffindor centuries back. 

 

“Now, I believe it is class time, I shall have Professor McGonagall escort you.” he says, and I realize that she is waiting  on the stairs with Hagrid when the door opens again. Well, that was a short meeting. 

 

I’m not complaining about being let off with a warning, but I don’t feel like going to class. I’d feel better if I knew I weren’t going to have to apologize to an irate Draco or Pansy. I’m not even excited to see Theo right now. 

 

When I get to class the chattering students go silent, either because of me or McGonagall. Probably both, the students are lined up on opposite sides of the hall like usual, SLytherins and Gryffindors apart. A particularly brave Gryffindor waits for McGonagall to walk into the class and out of earshot before stepping closer to me with a glare.

 

“Justin was a good guy. And Colin. You’ll pay for this, snake.” he snaps, and I feel someone step up to my side, their pinky hooking around mine hidden in the folds of our robes. His hand is tentative, but I recognize the white flag of surrender and I slowly fold our hands together. We’ll face these rubbish rumors as a team, as best mates, and as sketchy kids who will definitely keep speaking in parseltongue for kicks.

 

“Get back to your knitting, Finnigan. I swear, only a Gryffindor would be thick enough to threaten the boy you think is attacking your friends.” Draco’s aristocratic voice drawls, and I squeeze his hand in silent acceptance of his apology. Thank goodness we don’t have to deal with that any longer, he’s the only kid who speaks parseltongue and I have lots to share. 

 

Beginning with the creature that is killing chickens. 

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds a book and Draco makes a plan. Hermione helps, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

“This is such a bad idea.” Harry says, shaking his head. 

 

“Don’t be daft, this is the best idea I’ve had.” 

 

“Let me get this straight, I am to set a fire in my Dad’s classroom to distract him so that you can steal from him?” 

 

“Great, then we’re on the same page.” Draco quips, reviewing the necessary ingredients for Polyjuice Potion. We are asking Hermione for help today, and we’ll need everything in order to convince her. 

 

“You know, you’re going to owe me for this.” I grumble, arms folded from my spot laying across the couch, my head in his lap. Pansy is in her room, getting ready to see Hermione in the library. 

 

“Don’t you have a date to get to?” Pansy asks, emerging from the dorms and jabbing at my leg. I pout at her, dramatically massaging the part of my calf her finger touched as Draco looks up from his book, curious as well.

 

“Yea, don’t you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. I focus on my hands as I answer the question as vaguely as possible.

 

“Nah, didn’t end up finding time.” I shrug, which is difficult laying down. Pansy thankfully let’s it go, but Draco studies me for more details.

 

“ _ Why don’t you go? Don’t you like him? Theo, I mean.”  _ he asks, pretending to read through his notes so as to pass off the hissing for background noise in front of Pansy. 

 

“ _ I do. Did. Kind of, it’s complicated.”  _

 

_ “Right.”  _ his unimpressed tone translates even in parseltongue.

 

_ “Do you not like him?” _

 

_ “What are you talking about?”  _ he evades, and I watch his face knowing he can feel my stare.

 

_ “Theo. You seem to have it in for him or something.”  _

 

_ “Just making sure he’s worth your time.”  _ He says, dismissively. The words strike a chord in me, knowing that someone is looking out for me or holding others to standards of how to treat me is an elating feeling, one I find I can’t get tired of.

 

_ “Thanks.” _

 

_ “Shut up. Let’s go meet Mione.”  _ He pushes me off of him, moaning as I go limp and make him carry me up into a standing position. 

  
  
  


To say the least, Hermione is not impressed with the idea. In fact, she is switching between telling Draco and I off for even considering it, and creating a list of reasons why it wouldn’t work. 

 

She completely changes some parts of Draco’s plan, tweaking other bits and pieces until she rolls her eyes saying it’s still a horrible idea, but at least now makes sense. Draco naturally hated this, but knew to hold his tongue when she was practically helping us, in her own way.

 

“Right, so you’re in?” I ask, hopefully. Now that she’s talked it through, it sounds much more fun and effective than when it was just an idea.

 

“I am most certainly not ‘in’. I will help brew this simply because I know you’ll take the potion whether it’s safe or not, so I may as well know it’s polyjuice and not poison. I will tell you the password, I will get you in, and we will get to the bottom of this, but mark my word, I knew nothing of this scheme.” she says, and I grin, yanking her into a hug. 

 

“You’re the best, Mione.” she rolls her eyes again, but looks pleased nonetheless. We stand to leave, and Madam Pince walks by, stopping in shock once she catches sight of Pansy’s skirt length. Pulling Pansy to her desk to tell her off, Draco and I help Hermione stack her things into her bag, which is packed full. 

 

“Right, we’ll see you tomorrow then? Double potions and then charms. Should be a great time.” I say, and we walk slowly through the library waiting for Pansy to rejoin us. Madam Pince will walk us all to our dorms, the rule is turning out to be more of a nuisance than anything.

 

“Hey, can I ask you two something?” Hermione asks, voice dropping lower as we get closer to the group of students waiting to leave. Interest piqued, I move closer, nodding along with Draco.

 

“Well, I may just be imagining it, but… Does Pansy maybe, kind of have a crush on me or something? It’s silly, I know, I just feel like-” she is cut off by our laughter, which earns a sharp glare and sh! From the still ranting Librarian. 

 

“Oh, don’t laugh, it’ silly. I shouldn’t have asked.” she huffs, arms folded across her front as she looks away. I try to calm my laughter down a bit to reassure her.

 

“No, no, it isn’t that. She fancies you, has since like first year. She never shuts up about it, we thought you were just being nice in rejecting her.” Draco explains, and Hermione looks back to us, wide-eyed.

 

“Really? Do you- I mean, what should I do about it?” she asks, flustered. 

 

“Well, just let her know, gently, that you aren’t interested.” I shrug, and she shakes her head, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Pansy is still busy.

  
“No, I mean how should I ask her out?” she says, and the words catch me by surprise.

 

“Oh. Oh!” I gasp, grinning for Pansy. She’s going to have a hippogriff when she finds out.

 

Draco leans in closer, making a plan with hermione as I keep tabs on Pansy, letting the other two know when she walks back over, looking more bored than anything. 

 

“Well, let’s go. I’m supposed to promise to my friends that I shall no longer dress like a tart and thrust my negative influences on you.” she giggles, sarcasm dripping from her tone as we walk towards the back of the group. We’re heading to Gryffindor tower first.

 

When we get to the Gryffindor entrance, Hermione turns to us, speaking quickly before Pince yells at her. 

 

“Pansy, we are going on a date tomorrow. I will see you in the great hall if you accept, sleep well.” she says, turning back around and diving into the portrait hole before Pansy can even blink. Well, so much for the plan Draco outlined, though I suppose this is more of Hermione’s style, efficient and charming in her own way. 

 

“Holy shite, bloody Merlin’s balls, did that happen? Harry, I’m going mad.” Pansy says, gripping my arm like a vice as we turn to walk to another common room. I laugh in pain, her nails digging into my arm as Draco holds his hands up, no help to me at all.

 

“Yes, that just happened. She didn’t think you liked her, asked us about it. She told me to tell you that if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine.” I say, peeling her fingers off of my arm slowly.

 

“Oh, do you know what this means? I have a date with the smartest witch in our year, what the hell am I going to talk about?” she panics, and we slow to a stop in front of Ravenclaw tower.

 

“You’re one of her closest friends, you talk to her all the time. It’ll be fine, Pans. Merlin, this takes forever. This new rule is so poorly constructed.” I grumble, as we move towards the dungeons for Slytherin and Hufflepuff. 

 

As we pass the stairs to the second floor, Filch is rushing back and forth with a bag of magical cleaning products, grumbling about water as something spills from his bag. Slipping through the railing, it falls without his notice, the group in front of me paying him no attention. 

 

It looks like a small, unremarkable black book. It lands on the staircase, just a few feet behind me, and I turn back to snatch it up before he or anyone else notices. It could be nothing, but the book seems to pulse with an unsettling and oddly familiar magic. It would be unwise to leave it anyway, if it’s nothing then so be it but I won’t pass up a juicy secret.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find some answers that lead to more questions and Ginny needs the book back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I know this is late but I took a day off yesterday to process the tragedy in the US. My heart goes out to all of the family, friends and citizens effected, I fully support the LGBT+ community and I am praying for all of you, things like this come from no religion, and are senseless acts of violence.

Watching two Gryffindors wolf down the spiked food on their plates with a grimace, I remind myself that we need information. Ron Weasley’s dad has to know something, being in the ministry and all, and his brothers are harder to get a hold of when they aren’t the ones coming to you.

 

The twins would probably be more help, though these days I can only find them when we’re practising for quidditch, and there isn’t much room for conversation between Flint’s screaming and the rough drills. 

 

“Hermione said to meet in the same place, we’ll need some strands from those two, and their robes.” Draco says, not making eye contact and barely moving his lips as he puts some food onto his plate. I nod, eating some food as well and keeping a close eye on the table across the hall. When the two boys look like they’re collecting their things to leave, I nudge Draco, and we stand leaving with little attention. 

 

Standing in the large entrance hall, I feel suddenly small as the sheer size of the castle dawns on me. Nerves begin to pick up, there is no way we’ll be able to pull this off. If we’re caught, Dad will be so angry with me. I feel the now familiar guilt roil in my stomach at the memory of setting a classmate’s book on fire while I helped my friends steal from my dad. But these attacks have to stop, and I need to know as much as I can to end this faster. 

 

When Seamus and Dean leave the Great hall, we wait until they’re halfway up the stairs before following them, our footsteps quiet in the large hall. Prefects and teachers line the halls every thirty feet or so, escorting students individually after meals would take far too much time so the professors came up with this compromise. 

 

About hallway between the last teacher and the next, Draco draws his wand. Eyeing the splintered stick, I place a hand on his, shaking my head. He pouts, putting it away but nodding nonetheless. 

 

Murmuring the activation spell, we rush forward to soften their blow as they crumple to the floor, unconscious. I get a grip on Seamus, and Draco drags Dean quickly into the closest classroom. I sit Seamus and Dean up against the wall, out of immediate sight of the door. 

 

“They’re scrawny, think we can get away with just changing ties?” I ask, and Draco nodds. Leaving our ties and any Slytherin clothes in a bag enchanted to return our things to our rooms, we replace them with the crimson and gold fabrics. 

 

A soft knock sounds on the door, and Draco steps forward to make sure it’s Pansy. She slips inside the room, taking a seat by the two Gryffindors and making herself comfortable. 

 

“You remember the plan?” Draco asks her, anxious. She rolls her eyes, opening the book on her lap.

 

“Of course. Watch them, if any teachers come in or if they wake up just make a show of how I’ve just found them and I am here to help. Now hurry up, hermione is already in the bathroom with the potion ready.” She says, and I nod, following Draco back out of the room. 

 

Walking quickly with our heads down, nobody stops us or comments on our odd colour change. It takes a minute to get into the actual bathroom, the second floor is blocked off for the most part. Honestly, why even make it mildly possible to get onto the floor if the goal is to keep people safe?

 

Hermione is sitting on the floor in the dim bathroom, her cauldron in front of her as well as three goblets. She startles when we walk in, relaxing once she recognizes us. 

 

“Alright. I’ll be changing into Draco so that one of you has an alibi. I’ll be in the library, I’ll talk to a few people and hide behind a shelf until I’ve changed back so I can leave as myself. Do you have a tie for me to wear?” she asks, and I hand one over. 

 

She pours the odd, murky potion into the goblets, and we each sprinkle a hair into our cups. My potion changes into a darker green colour, and Draco’s goes crimson. Hermione’s is a soft silvery liquid, that looks morbidly similar to unicorn blood.

 

“Right. Bottoms up.” I say, downing the foul tasting potion with a gasp. 

 

It tastes awfully bitter, Dropping the goblet I stumble as heat spreads over my body. Landing at one of the sinks, I look in horror at the mirror as my features begin to bubble and change. My skin darkens, my hair shrinking into my head and changing into a different style as my green eyes bleed to brown, my spine groaning as I grow a few inches. Disgusting gurgling sounds issue from my torso as it changes, cracks ringing through the room as my bone structure shifts. 

 

After another sudden rush of heat, my body calms down and I touch my new face, eyes wide. It worked!

 

“That was awful, but well done Hermione.” I say, turning and jumping to find Draco smiling back at me. 

 

“Thanks. Now we have to hurry, it only lasts an hour.” Hermione’s voice falls from Draco’s lips, and I shake my head at the odd nature of our situation. Seamus, or rather, Draco looks upset to be shorter than he was, and to have so many freckles. 

 

“You better not use the loo while you’re me, Granger.” he says sourly, and I laugh at their identical expressions of horror at the idea.

 

“Hermione, smile really big for a moment.” I say, and she does so, if a bit stiffly. Draco pouts, folding his Seamus arms over his Seamus chest.

 

“Why’d you have her do that?” he asks. 

 

“Because you never smile. Just wondering what it looked like.” I tease, and he shoves me.

 

“Okay, boys. Time to go. The password is owl treats. Good luck!” she says, slipping out of the room and presumably going to the library.

 

“Well, let’s get into character then. C’mon, let me hear your irish accent.” I say, and he gives me a sharp glare before turning to walk out. I follow, laughing as we walk up towards the Gryffindor common room. The route is pretty familiar, from walking Hermione up here to the boring trips with teachers all around the castle to keep from further attacks.

 

When we reach the portrait of the Fat Lady, Draco steps forward and gives her the password in a surprisingly good irish accent. 

 

“Nice accent. Smile, he’s always smiley.” I whisper as the painting creaks open, and we climb ungracefully over the hole in the wall. Why can’t they have a door like us?

 

“I wanted to be Dean. He doesn’t have to be all puppy like.” he hisses back.

 

“Well, Dean is muggleborn. I need to have answers if it comes up.” I shrug. We emerge into the common room, which is alarmingly red. 

 

There are couches and cushions all over the room, the fireplace roaring as the noise level seems to stay at a chaotic height with so many Gryffindors in one place. I can see the appeal, it is rather homey and warm, though I can’t imagine leaving the comfort of our common room. 

 

“Seamus! Dean! Over here, mate!” a familiar voice shouts, and we turn to see Ron playing a game of chess in front of the fire.

 

“Fancy a game?” he asks, gesturing to the board as we settle around him. Draco nods, and I feel a twinge of worry. What if that isn’t normal behavior for Seamus? Draco never turns down a chance at chess, nobody in Slytherin can play an exciting game against him. 

 

“So, mate, heard anything else about the attacks?” Draco asks nonchalantly after some talk over classes. Luckily, we share the classes with gryffindors so anything he mentions that happened we’ll already have seen. 

 

“No, Percy is still being a git about trying to catch the student responsible. Dad won’t tell me much, he’s still trying to catch Malfoy with some dark artifacts in his house.” he scowls, and I match the look.

 

“The father, right? I ask, my voice slightly disinterested as I carefully gauge his response. Draco is slightly stiff nxt to me, but otherwise seems to be unaffected.

 

“‘Course. I reckon he’s the reason Draco Malfoy turned out so horrible. Dad went to school, same time he did. All he would tell me is that it happened fifty years ago, and the student was expelled. He also said that last time, a muggleborn died.” he says gravely, no longer paying attention the chess pieces before him. If he’s already told any of this to Seamus and Dean, he doesn’t seem to mind repeating it.

 

“Really? Did he tell you who did it?” Draco asks, irish accent making the words seem lighter. Ron shakes his head, looking bewildered at the board which is evenly matched at the moment. He doesn’t seem used to being shown up at his game. 

 

“No. But fifty years ago, I bet Malfoy opened it. And now, he’s taught Malfoy junior how to do it. Can you believe those two can speak parseltongue? I don’t understand why Dumbledore won’t expel them, it’s obvious that they’re doing it!” he rushes out, and I notice with a jolt of fear that Draco’s freckles are starting to fade. My skin grows cold, and I decide we’ll have to make do with the information we’ve gotten.

 

“Of course they are, who else could it be? Hey, we have to go meet Hermione for help on that paper now, remember?” I elbow Draco, who looks to me and seems to blanch. Great, that means my looks are changing too. 

 

“Granger? What for?” he asks, looking at us with wide eyes as we jump up and begin to move away.

 

“Yea, see you in a bit mate.” he gets out, and we rush out of the portrait hole ignoring Ron’s questions that follow us. 

 

By the time we are back in the second floor bathroom, we’ve turned back completely. Pansy is there, as well as a nervous looking Hermione. 

 

“What happened? Seamus and Dean woke up a few minutes ago, I screamed and everything and they left before I could stall them. Did you run into them?” Pasny asks, and I shake my head, trying to catch my breath from running here.

 

“No, we got out. It went fine, though I don’t know how Ron will take those two coming back with no memory of the past hour. Now, listen.” I say, and they lean in closer as we relate what we’ve learned.

 

“Draco, I don’t mean to be rude, but is it possible your Dad opened the Chamber fifty years ago?” Hermione asks nervously and Draco shakes his head.

 

“No, he didn’t. Don’t worry, I don’t think he is above something this awful, but he wasn’t expelled and the person who did it was. That’s what we have to figure out next, we’ll ask your Dad who was expelled back then. Can’t be many, look at all the shite we’ve done without more than a slap on the wrist.” Draco says, and I nod thinking about who could have taught someone here to open the chamber. 

 

“Okay, it’s almost curfew. Let’s get back to our common rooms, Draco you spoke with that Ravenclaw boy in our year, and Blaise Zabini. Nothing much, just hello and how are you kind of things.” Hermione says, standing and stretching her limbs. We follow suit, leaving the bathroom a few minutes apart. Draco walks with Pansy, and Hermione goes alone as I am the last in the room. 

 

Watching the clock, I have another two minutes to go before I can leave. Sighing, I lean against the wall, hearing a splash from one of the stalls.

 

Standing quickly, I pull out my wand, creeping slowly towards the noise. No splashes follow, though I can hear an odd noise from the last stall. Passing the first three, which are empty and dark, I stop just before the last stall, reaching out to push the door open. 

 

Before my fingers can meet the wooden door of the stall, it flings open, and a frightened girl dashes forward, running straight into me. 

 

“Hey!” I gasp, grabbing hold of her arm before she can begin hitting me.

 

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. What did you hear?” I ask, and she turns her frightened face up to me. I recognize her as a Weasley, fred and George’s little sister Ginny. 

 

Her eyes look oddly glazed, and she is shaking quite a bit. I wait for her to answer me, and she speaks after a pregnant pause.

 

“I heard it all, but I won’t tell. I didn’t mean for people to come in, I was trying to get back my-” she stops abruptly, fear in her eyes once more.

 

“It’s alright, what were you here for? Maybe I can help you find it, if you won’t tell on us.” I bargain, and she nods shakily.

 

“I tried to throw it out, but I want it back. I thought Filch had it, but he said he doesn’t have anything. It’s a small black diary, I tried to flush it in here. I need it back, I can’t let anyone see it.” She insists, and I swallow heavily. She means the book sitting at the bottom of my trunk, which I have yet to figure out. Thinking through my words carefully, I decide to figure it out before giving it back.

 

“I think I’ve seen it. I know a boy who has it, but I don’t think he knows how to read it. Can you tell me how it works so I can make sure he hasn’t already read it? I will return it to you, I promise.” I say gently, and she nods, hands still shaking in anxiety. What could this book possibly hold?

 

“You can write in it, and he writes back. But he isn’t as nice as he seems, I don’t think anyway. I need it back.” she insists once more, and I realize that her voice is oddly robotic, unnatural and rehearsed. 

 

“Okay, I will get it back to you. He hasn’t read it, he hasn’t written in it. I’ll give it to you in the great hall.” I say, and her face contorts in sudden rage.

 

“I need it! I need the book!” she shouts, and I stagger back, her eyes demanding and sharp. 

 

“Okay. I will return it, but you must wait until tomorrow. I have to go.” I say, and she seems to fold back into herself, running from the room without another word.

 

Still in shock from her behaviour, I make my way slowly back to the common room, not meeting any teachers or prefects along the way When I walk into the common room, Draco and Pansy are the only ones still awake, and pacing.

 

“What the hell took you so long?” Draco demands, walking towards me in a rush and crushing me into a hug.

 

“Sorry, I- someone was there. Ginny Weasley.” I say, and explain everything that happened. Pansy demands to see the book, but Draco insists we wait until morning since there is an essay due tomorrow and he doesn’t want to miss it. 

  
When I fall asleep, it’s to dreams of snakes and redheads covered in blood. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two weeks before holidays do nothing good for stress or the boy's moods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoy. It's a little bit of a filler, the next chapter has quite a bit of drama.

We didn’t end up writing in the diary for weeks. 

 

Waking up went simply enough, until Blaise knocked over Draco’s hair product effectively spilling it everywhere and rendering it useless. Then, Pansy felt ill so we had to walk her to the infirmary during breakfast, and three separate teachers announced essays and projects due before the upcoming holidays. 

 

Pansy felt better after a night in the hospital and a few Pepper-up potions, and Draco’s new hair product came in the mail by owl order. However, I ended up paired with Greg for a charms project in which we had to choose something ordinary to muggles and make it useful to wizards. 

 

Even with Draco as a partner it would have been difficult, and I won’t go to Dad for special treatment, so I have to grit my teeth and move on with it. I suppose it could be worse, at least I have a good idea of muggle objects and so when Flitwick brought out a box of knick knacks I knew what to grab.

 

Poor Draco and Seamus, who ended up partnered after several temper tantrums, ended up with a DVD disc. I grabbed a paintbrush, which I planned to charm into never running out of paint of all colours. Like most of the Slytherins in the room, the idea wasn’t the hard part. It was trying to find a spell that worked how we needed it to, since Flitwick would only give cheerful and cryptic answers when asked for help. 

 

This project weighs on me more during the two weeks before Christmas holidays than the Potions assignment does, for which Draco stays my partner. The potion we are brewing, a form of the Hiccup resolving Draught based off of our own ingredients, needed to hold certain side effects and taste a certain way without changing the properties of the hiccup removal. It was all very technical and exhausting, and every moment was incredibly interesting. Once we’d found the right ingredients and began brewing, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and excitement. Potions was such a complex process, to change a potion so specifically was difficult. 

 

There would be a small test like assignment for A History of Magic, since formal exams are at the end of the year. Thanks to the exhaustive notes only Draco and Hermione seem to take in the class, I’m not quite as worried for the in class essay as I am for Transfiguration.

 

Rather than overload our last two weeks, Professor McGonagall is assigning a project due at the end of our holidays, something I groaned at since I’d rather be done with it for Christmas. 

 

Draco seemed to be in a foul mood, though there were several factors that had nothing to do with the workload. I realized that for one thing, he wouldn’t get to celebrate having Scorpius for one year. He gets along well with Duchess, I know he loves her and she helps a lot with his magic, though I hate that he doesn’t have Scorpius with him. 

 

Second, his mother won’t allow him home for the holidays in fear of his father doing something, and Draco is worried sick about her. He does well to hide it, but as the person who holds him through nightmares I can see the toll it’s taking on him. She writes, though the letters can’t hold too much information for risk of Lucius intercepting them. 

 

Third, he began a row with Theo over interrupting our studying in the common room. 

 

“Honestly, for someone as smart as you claim to be you’d think the thought would cross your mind not to interrupt two people obviously studying.” Draco snaps, while we pour over Potions theories for our hiccup draught. 

 

“Hey, I was just coming to talk to Harry. I was going to help with his studies.” Theo defends, looking at Draco with a glower. Sighing under my breath, I try not to pay attention so that it won’t be up to me to break them up. I enjoy Theo’s friendship, but Draco isn’t a fan and I don’t want to kick him when he’s already down with everything else going on. 

 

“I fail to see what help you could offer Harry in the class his father teaches and he excels at. But do carry on stammering, as I said I’ve obviously got all the time in the world to be bothered.” Draco responds. His voice is reaching that political tone which implies that this argument will include lots of personal insults and probably last hours. I know Theo, much like any self-respecting Slytherin, would meet this argument head on and give nasty remarks of his own, but we really do need to focus on this homework.

 

“ _ Hey, it’s alright. I’ll get rid of him.”  _ I say, trying to keep in mind how much is weighing on Draco. I know how rude he is to others, and I have developed a thicker skin for some of the sharp words he aims towards others. This doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for the kids in his way during stressful times. Theo gives me a slightly betrayed look at the parseltongue, not knowing if I am reprimanding Draco or encouraging him. 

 

Even Pansy has taken to avoiding Draco a little more, storming away with a quip about how temperamental Draco can be and ‘why do you humor him Harry?’. I do wish she would get over her pride, it’s not something that will help at all in any friendship with Draco. 

 

“Theo, I’ll talk to you later. Sorry, this potions thing just takes a lot out of us, but I do need help in Charms tomorrow if you’re free.” I offer, and he nods with a smile, moving back to his own friends.

 

“We have plans tomorrow with Pansy.” Draco says, confused. We do, she wants to spend more time together before she leaves for a trip over the holidays with her parents. 

 

“I know, I’ll be quick. I’ll just talk to him during a meal or something.” I shrug, going back to the thick volume in front of me. He accepts this answer, and there isn’t another row for the rest of the evening. 

 

Quidditch practises don’t relent either, though our next match is after holidays. Each practise finishes with each flier numb from cold, sore and dirty. We don’t complain, last time one of us did Flint kept us running drills until Dad had to come out and demand we all return to our common room in time for curfew.

 

My charms project finally falls into place and I don’t have to be Greg’s partner anymore, our hiccup resolving draught gets top marks and my in class essay goes well. Dad is busy grading, so we don’t spend a meal with him until the sunday after school ends, the carriages set to leave tomorrow morning. Draco is pouting, and Blaise is the only other boy staying. Hermione is going home, as well as Pansy and Theo. 

 

“What do you want for Christmas?” Draco asks as students file from the common room with their bags in tow. He is pretty much sitting on top of me, where he plopped down after we said goodbye to our friends. The goodbye to Theo was rather tense as Draco refused to get up and acknowledge that Theo was standing there for a hug or something, but I didn’t want to make it worse by asking him to move and starting a fight so we ended up trying to shake hands. 

 

“I want to mess with Lockhart.” I decide, and Draco surprises me with a genuine laugh, rare with the mood he’s been in. 

 

“Let’s do it.” he says. 

 

“We’ll plan tonight, Dad will have some good ideas and we’re eating with him.” I remind him, and he nods, stretching with several cracks along his spine. Eyeing the pale skin revealed when he stretches, a devilish grin curls across my face as I reach out to tickle him. 

 

One thing I’ve learned that it seems Draco would rather nobody ever find out, he is damn ticklish. Like, everywhere. 

 

He folds in on himself, trying to move from me and control his breathing through uncharacteristic giggles as I relentlessly move his shirt to ghost over his sides. It’s a very un-Malfoy like act, and yet this is the most  _ Draco  _ I have seen him act in a while. 

 

“You prat, quit it!” he cries, slightly shrill. The common room is empty, I’m not so rude as to reveal his weakness in front of anyone. I finally give up tickling him, and he emerges from his flailing arms with red cheeks and hair that challenges my own messy locks.

 

“Hey, I have an idea.” I say, and he raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Okay, so you know how everyone goes to the astronomy tower and the like at night when they can’t sleep?” I begin, secretly grinning as he decides to leave his hair messy. He nods for me to continue.

 

“Well, the Great Hall shows the stars just as well, and it’d probably look cool during the night. Or the quidditch pitch, if it were warmer. Oh! You know what we should do this break?” I feel my eyes widen as I flush with excitement at my idea.

 

“What?” he laughs, mostly at the lack of pattern to my words.

 

“We should break into all of the other common rooms. We’ve hit Gryffindor, now the other two.” I say, and he perks up at this plan.

 

“That’s brilliant, Ravenclaw could be difficult, and no doubt Hufflepuff has a bunch of clever tricks setup. Really, you’d think Gryffindor would have more defenses, ours at least douses you with lake water if you aren’t Slytherin or a teacher.” he says, and I nod along. 

 

Checking the clock, it’s almost time to go to dinner, so I begin to get up, deciding to change from my uniform to muggle jeans and a sweater. Draco’s sweater, which I get a sharp glare and a shove for, but it’s soft so I’m not too bothered. The walk to Dad’s quarters takes longer than usual when Draco demands a piggy back ride once I describe the muggle term to him, and who am I to deny Draco Malfoy? He isn’t heavy, just ticklish and therefore extremely squirmy. 

 

We always seem to forget the other’s childhood, when he mentions something about the wizarding world that is completely foreign to me or I use a muggle phrase. To be fair, some muggle stuff Hermione mentions I don’t even know either because I have to live with the Dursleys and I rarely left the house, or because it’s girl stuff. 

 

The dinner with Dad is pretty uneventful, and I get an odd look when I ask the house elf for some coffee. Technically, he doesn’t like me to drink coffee, though once I’ve introduced the drink to Draco he demands another cup. By the time we’re finished, neither of us can sit still for very long, though we plan to be up all night exploring the castle under the cloak anyways. 

 

If Dad suspects this, he doesn’t say anything. He’ll be making rounds throughout the nights over the break as one of the few remaining teachers, he’ll most likely catch us at some point. We just have to get as much adventure in before that point. 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry break a few more rules and (almost) make a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be finishing this book up here soon, it's a little longer than I planned but I ended up moving a bit around. Hope you enjoy!

“Shall I even ask for an explanation?” Dad says, arms folded as he stares disapprovingly at us, trying to readjust the invisibility cloak and talking far too loudly in the hallway past curfew.

 

Instead of answering, I look behind us at the entrance to Ravenclaw tower, where the eagle shaped knocker is still waiting for our answer to his riddle. He won’t accept any of our answers thus far, though they have been perfectly acceptable. 

 

“Has it occurred to you that walking around the corridors at night whilst a murderer roams these very halls? Perhaps you had a plan should you be faced with something or someone more powerful than you?” He continues, and I can tell we’re in for a lecture. 

 

“Sorry, Dad.” I say, guilt heavy in my stomach as I begin to understand how stupid it was to explore right now. Of course, we’ll probably do it again, but it sucks being caught and having to  face your parent with the ‘I just want you safe’ talk. 

 

“Let’s go, you two have to be rested for our trip tomorrow. I will leave you here and go into Hogsmeade by myself if you aren’t awake and at my chambers at the time we’ve agreed upon.” he says, his voice softening as he silently accepts my apology. We fall into step behind him, his wand casting eerie shadows on the paintings around us. 

 

We wait a few minutes before speaking, and I apologize a bit more to Dad who mutters an acceptance, with a few more admonishments. Draco nudges me as we reach the stairs, and I turn to him as we walk, beginning to fall a bit further behind Dad. 

 

“ _ Hey, I wrote my mother. About who was expelled, you know?”  _ Draco says, the soft hissing of parseltongue silent to dad, who is now a few paces in front of us.

 

_ “Really? What did she say? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”  _ I ask, shoving his shoulder. He has the worst timing, honestly. He glares at me, shoving me back as we step off of the stairs and begin down the hall again. 

 

_ “She hasn’t answered yet, idiot. I’ll tell you right away, if you don’t open my mail first.”  _ He quips, tone slightly miffed. I opened one of his letters while he was still asleep, though I only needed the address of the Manor so I could write to Narcissa. While it may have been mildly illegal, I don’t see the problem. 

 

_ “That was one time!”  _ I protest, and he sniffs dismissively.

 

_ “It was rather rude.”  _

 

_ “I didn’t read it.”  _ I counter, and he scoffs, obviously not believing me.

 

_ “You also haven’t apologized for writing to my mother without telling me.”  _

 

_ “I can write to who I like.” _ I shrug, as we cross over the entrance hall into the dungeons.

 

_ “The tell me what it was about.”  _

 

_ “Nope.”  _

 

_ “Why not? Is it a secret?”  _ He asks, sounding a bit hurt. Draco hates feeling left out, especially when it comes to me. I feel the same way, but it is a surprise and I’ll be damned if he finds out.

 

_ “Of sorts. You’ll see soon, it was about the holidays if you must know.”  _ I answer, trying to stay vague. It is supposed to be a surprise, but the git won’t stop bringing it up when he thinks my guard is down. He’ll be upset if I do tell him, which would put everyone involved in a sour mood, but he’ll be upset until I give him a good enough reason to leave alone, which I can’t. Fun. 

 

_ “Whatever. Blaise won’t let me move the beds into one big bed this time round. Something about me being a pampered arsehole.”  _ He changes the subject, sensing that I am beginning to close up. The entrance to the common room is one turn away, and I chuckle quietly at his words.

 

_ “Well, he can’t have Greg and Vince’s beds.”  _ I smirk devilishly, and he lets out a short laugh. 

 

_ “True.”  _ he smirks back, as we slow to a stop in front of the blank stone wall. Dad says the password, a short goodnight and then disappears back down the hall, not yet done with his shift around the castle. I wonder if he’ll be able to stay awake for our trip tomorrow, for all the warnings he’s giving us.

 

“What are you two dunderheads doing up at this hour?” Blaise asks, glaring at us from his bed once we’ve flicked the lights on. I grin, locking eyes with Draco to find he’s on the verge of laughter as well.

 

“Dearest Blaise, have we interrupted your slumber?” Draco asks, waltzing over to Blaise’s bedside and stretching out like a cat on top of him. My smile fades a bit at this, and I try to shake off the odd feeling as I toss my cloak onto the bed. 

 

“Shove off, git. Why don’t you two come back from your stupid snog sessions more quietly?” Blaise grumps, words muffled from underneath Draco.

 

My face flushes at his words, and I freeze up with no quick slytherin response. I can’t see either of their faces since they are on the other side of the room, so instead I silently slip into the bathroom to avoid answering at all. I can still hear them clearly from here, but I can definitely pretend not to have heard them. I don’t see how Dad and Draco can call me a Gryffindor, I avoid conflict when it isn’t amusing or in my favour. 

 

The trouble and danger always seems to find me, which is incredibly inconvenient. 

 

“Shut it, idiot.” Draco says, and I can tell he’s at least a little shaken by the words. I know he’s gay, but what if this makes things awkward? Or at least, even more so? I know that we don’t exactly have a conventional friendship, but I’d like to think that it can carry on peacefully, whatever people think of it or whatever feelings I may or may not have it shouldn’t mess anything up. I have come to subconscious terms to ignore my feelings without denying them, and I have settled upon simply having a best friend, no need to over complicate things. 

 

Besides, I have more to worry about. I need to figure out what the hell is causing these attacks, because it all seems far too sinister to be a blood purity fuelled attack, at least from a student. I know the darkest Slytherins in the school, and I know that these attacks wouldn’t serve them. It would only get the smartest person expelled, if not imprisoned, and that is if a student had the means to carry any of this out. It has to be someone older, working towards a higher goal. These attacks have the nature of making the students targeted pawns rather than crucial pieces petrified for a reason. Someone who is on a different level and status than these kids is behind this, and I need to figure it out before Draco or I am arrested. The Ministry doesn’t have a good judicial system, it’d be stupid to trust our clean records in their hands with nervous parents at their door. 

 

I am about to ask Draco when he thinks his mother will write back about the expulsion, when I can hear him and Blaise muttering. Slightly stung, I listen closer, my curiosity piqued as I am a little bitter over being excluded. 

 

“- and like I said, that is the worst idea that you’ve ever managed, Blaise, which says a lot. So drop it!” Draco is saying, and I can practically feel him roll his eyes as he talks.

 

“You’re an idiot, and so is he. I’m not going to keep quiet about it forever, you know. Here, we’ll make a deal.” Blaise says, and I sigh. He’s obsessed with deals, bets, anything that he can gamble on. I’ve only lost to him once, though Draco is a little less careful with his money than I am so he and Blaise are often trying to gain back money lost. 

 

“Fine. What is it?” Draco asks, rushed, and I realize he doesn’t want me to come out or hear any of this. Partially because I wouldn’t let him gamble anything more, but there is something nagging at me that he’s hiding a secret.

 

“You have to do it by the time we get back for third year. Don’t give me that look, that is plenty of time for your procrastination. Do we have a deal?” Blaise asks, and before he can seal it I walk out loudly, pretending not to have heard any of the previous conversation and falling onto Blaise next to Draco effectively cutting off his response. 

 

Whatever deal this is, Draco obviously doesn’t feel up to it but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen him turn away a bet. This habit gets dangerous when he eats a bowl of strawberries because Pansy said he can’t, which he is in fact allergic to. Or when he decides that he can to fly higher than Theo even if he technically doesn’t have a working wand if things go wrong, and of course he isn’t afraid to ask McGonagall on a date Vince, just watch. 

 

It’s entertaining, but not so fun when you’re fixing the mess afterwards. 

 

“Blaise, dearest, what can I possibly get you for Christmas?” I sigh, propping my head up and digging my elbows into the lump of his body under us. He glares back at me, and I try to stifle a laugh at the satin sleep mask currently propped onto his forehead.

 

“Some peace and quiet would be nice.” he grumps, and I pout at him, his glare sharpening. 

 

“Damn, guess you won’t be wanting any of the fancy gifts I’d planned. Shame, really, I’ll just have to give them to Draco.” I shrug, rolling away and beginning to levitate the four beds that are left into one. Blaise argues with me until the beds are where I want them, and he gives Draco a well aimed kick when he invites him to join the slumber party. 

 

“G’night, Blaise.” I say, his groan a good enough response as I find Draco in the dark, curling into the middle of the much too large bed. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas shopping and a new chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chap will be Christmas, hope you enjoy!

Christmas shopping is far too stressful. Granted, I’ve waited until the week before, but I don’t think it should be this hard to move about Hogsmeade. Ikarus is with Draco since he hasn’t got a wand, and there aren’t any wand shops in the village which I was cross about. Dad is off shopping, and I search idly for something to catch my attention. I’ve ordered some things, but not all stores work with owl order, so I have to shop here as well to get everything. 

 

What do I get for the guy who has everything? I’ve gotten the first part of his present which isn’t a purchase, but I’m pretty sure he’ll think it’s stupid so I need some cushion presents. I also have to pick a few things up that have already been ordered but couldn’t be owled. It helps I’m so small, I move a bit easier through the throngs of people than Vince or Greg ever could. Though it is nice to walk behind them in hallways since they tend to clear a path of their own. 

 

The woman in front of me stops short, pointing out a sign and I nearly run into her back, stepping away and into another person trying to maneuver around her. Apologising, I decide to just duck into the nearest store if only to get out of the cold and busy street. Following the two wizards in front of me into a store, the rush of heat fogs my glasses and I start walking slowly, waiting impatiently for them to clear off. I’m too lazy to clean them so I walk around blind for a moment until I can see enough to walk with purpose towards different displays. 

 

This store seems to focus on knicknacks, and I get Blaise a new chess set since his is rather worn, I’ll pick up some sweets from Honeydukes after. Spotting a display towards the back, I find a rather shiney kit of different hair products, and I grab one for Pansy. Grinning to myself, I grab another for Draco, and purchase these before moving to another store. 

 

The shop across the road should have my order ready for pick up since it couldn’t be owled, and I only have to wait about ten minutes in the line before I am paying and I have a few more bags on my arms. Paying the man behind the counter, I wince at the rather rude witch still arguing with two of the other employees, leaving a generous tip before ducking out the door. 

 

Next is the pet shop for Ikarus and Duchess, and of course for Scorpius once he’s woken up. The man there is much less busy, and he tries convincing me to buy a subscription to their monthly magazine, but I eventually slip out with my shopping bag. I’m getting tired, mostly just emotionally done with people and the crowds, but I still have to go to a few stores and then meet Dad and Draco to return to the castle. 

 

Walking towards Honeydukes, I manage to get enough variety packs through the insane crowd of parents and children hurrying to get their favourite sweets, I have to wait forever in the line curling around the shop. I’ll definitely have to get here ahead of time, this is ridiculous. 

 

Once I’m finally out and have all of my things, I find Dad and Draco near a carriage stop and allow Dad to shrink my bags and load them onto the nearest available ride. Sighing as we begin to move towards Hogwarts, I close my eyes and feel a weight plop down into my lap. Opening one eye and peering down, I find that Draco has laid out across the seat and put his head in my lap, which he normally does in the common room rather than a moving carriage. 

 

“That is not proper safety, Draco.” Dad chides, but he doesn’t make any more move to argue with Draco. The carriages go slow enough, and if anything actually happens there is always magic. 

 

“You’re going to be so happy with your gifts, guys. You have no idea, but I definitely win this Christmas with best gifts.” I say, watching out the window as we begin to leave the village and go into sparse woods on the worn path back to the castle. Draco just snorts at my words, and Dad raises an eyebrow.

 

“Have either of you decided on your apology for roaming the castle past curfew?” he asks, and I catch Draco’s eyes for a moment before he closes them once more and I look back out the window.

 

“I’m sorry, won’t happen again.” I say, and he lets out an uncharacteristic chuckle. 

 

“You mean you won’t let yourselves get caught again. Just promise to be careful, there truly is an attacker out there. Of course, they may have gone home, but I wouldn’t be foolish.” he warns, and I nod. As the carriage nears towards the castle, I gather all of my shrunken bags into one bag so that I don’t risk Draco peeking. As it is he isn’t allowed back in the dorms for another half hour while I wrap everything, he has plans to go to the library. Honestly, he’s more of a nerd than he admits. When I called him the muggle term, he had very little patience to hear what it meant and instead sent a hex my way. 

 

“I will see you two in the Great Hall for dinner, as we agreed. All other meals can be in the kitchen, but you really aren’t allowed back there so at least keep up appearances around the teachers. And of course, Sunday evenings are in my quarters.” Dad says as we walk through the Entrance hall and towards the dungeons, parting at the hall towards our common room. 

 

“I’m going to go talk to Salazar for a few, then I’ll be in the library.” Draco says, catching sight of the painting down the hall. I nod, having done the same last time I wasn’t allowed to be in the room. Once I reach the dorms and kick a complaining Blaise out, I begin to wrap each of the presents, using one of Draco’s family owls to send off the presents for Hermione and Pansy. Hiding and warding the others in my trunk lest the two boys go snooping, I walk back out to the common room to find Draco falling over himself in a rush to get inside. 

 

“Draco? What’s wrong?” I ask, startled. Draco is never clumsy, at least not in this sense. He usually walks with patience. Now, he is breathing hard and his cheeks are flushed with either excitement or fear. 

 

“Harry! Mother answered, and Salazar gave me something too. Listen.” he says, and I grin as we find a spot smushed onto an armchair, cramped over the elegant letter from Narcissa. I scan the letter, most of it is unrelated little tid bits usually in a letter from a mother to son, and I ignore the pang in my chest longing to receive similar letters. I have a dad, I shouldn’t be so sappy. 

 

Finding the paragraph I’m interested in, I read with growing confusion. 

 

‘As for your question of who was expelled and deemed responsible for the horrible attacks during my time at school regarding the chamber of secrets, it was a boy named Rubeus Hagrid. He was only in his first few years, I believe, but I knew him as the large boy who loved animals. I know he was kept on the grounds as a staff member, but I do not remember what his job position is, I never did think he was the true culprit. Nevertheless, the attacks ended when he left, so one can’t be sure.’ 

 

Narcissa then goes on to speak over her fears of Draco and I being here, and I grin at her mention of me. She talks about Dad making her feel better about our safety, and a few more things. Leaning back as Draco soaks in the other parts of the letter, I think over this new information. 

 

I knew that Hagrid was expelled, but I can’t see that he had anything to do with this. I will definitely have to get the answer out of him, getting him drunk or nervous is usually the route to go. I am visiting him for Christmas of course, but I think this should probably be during a different meeting, I don’t want to bother him with upsetting questions during a holiday. 

 

“I’ll talk to Dad as well, get some more information before we ask Hagrid about any of this. KI don’t see how he could have done it, but I suppose it’s possible.” I say, and Draco nods, chewing over his lip like he does when deep in thought. 

 

Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. He isn’t attractive, and there is absolutely no way his lip is distracting at a time like this. At all. Well, it definitely is, but I won’t act on it. That would be absolutely insane, and stupid, and reckless. 

 

Anyways. 

 

“I can see it, if he were harboring a creature that could have done it.” Draco says, and I nod, arching an eyebrow. I hadn’t considered that, but it seems likely. After all, he did try to have a dragon as a pet on school grounds just last year, who knows what animals he could have made excuses for as a boy?

 

“That is true, he does have a soft spot for most animals. We’ll do some research, ask Dad and maybe some other teachers. It’s best not to accuse him if we can disprove it without asking him.” I say, and he nods, still thinking. 

 

Blaise walks in then, looking smug and carrying something in his hands. 

 

“Hey, poufs, come here. Look what I found.” he says, excited. I roll my eyes at the term, Blaise has explained that he says it with love and he’s made it clear that it isn’t meant as a true insult, but more of a friend insult. If Draco’s glare and attitude are anything to go by, he hasn’t quite warmed up to it yet. 

 

“What is that?” I ask, leaning forward to try and see what is in his hands. Draco silently moves his head into my lap, still watching Blaise and clearly wanting his hair played with. It is a physical cue that I’ve learned to quickly pick up on since he tends to bite me if I don’t play with his hair fast enough or if I doze off and stop. 

 

Blaise tosses me the small object in his hand, which turn out to be one of the latest little gadgets in the wizarding world, and very expensive therefore hard to get a hold of. It is made of glass, and round like a ball filled with black smoke. It looks a bit like a remembrall, but instead it predicts short term and long term futures and gives advice. I don’t know if they are legitimate, though I’m glad Blaise has one since I wouldn’t buy one of my own without knowing it works. 

 

“Hey, Blaise, mind if I borrow this sometime?” I ask, trying to sound a little disinterested so as not to give away my curiosity. There are a number of questions and predictions I want, but I don’t care to speak an of them in front of Blaise or Draco. 

 

“Sure.” he shrugs, and we begin messing with the little orb while I perfect the questions I’ll ask later, finding that one mustn't be too vague with the object. 

 

_ Mirror, mirror, little ball. Would telling the truth ruin it all? _

  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas and family talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I suck, I'm sorry this has taken so long. I am dealing with some personal stuff, and I am going to try to be more on top of things. Enjoy!

“Ow! Hey! Draco, what the hell?” I yell, jerking awake as I feel a sharp sting on my shoulder. Looking over to the grinning blond, I realize once I look back at my shoulder that the little prat  _ bit  _ me. 

 

“Merry Christmas, now get up. I want presents.” he says, and I sit up, knowing there isn’t any use arguing today. Casting a quick charm, I find that it is five in the morning and therefore the only day of the year Draco willingly wakes up before anyone else. 

 

Walking down to the common room where a large christmas tree sits, covered in moving golden serpents and enchanted icicles. There are labeled packages and presents under the tree, and the fireplace is roaring with fire, the windows looking into the lake casting a green glow on the warm common room. Blaise is stretched out on one of the sofas, a warm cup of tea held close to his chest as he watches the admittedly odd group we make. Draco, straining to be patient with a fluffy Duchess draped over his shoulders where she likes to nap, and me with Ikarus who is getting to look a bit intimidating wound up my arm and chest. 

 

First I check that the owl is back and all of my packages were delivered, and I let Draco sort the presents into piles in front of himself, Blaise and I. Blaise is still very tired, and he tends to stay quiet when he’s sleepy rather than keep up his usual sarcastic commentary. I try to bite back a grin when I spot the package from the Weasley’s, I’d sent Fred and George each presents as well as the parents for the sweater they gave me last year. 

 

Taking the package nearest me, I feel Ikarus move across my back and over my shoulder, watching curiously. The letter attached is from Hagrid, and I grin at his clumsy but brilliant wrapping paper, covered in little magical creatures that move around. 

 

Carefully unfolding the paper and smoothing it out, I find a batch of rock cakes and a pair of dragon hide gloves. Setting the rock cakes near the fire to soften, I inspect the gloves with interest as I run through all of the things these could be used for. They aren’t broom riding gloves, and I already have a pair of those. They are going to be especially useful in the next few years, as Herbology and Potions become more dangerous. I am also looking forward to taking Care of Magical creatures, the class will probably require gloves like these to work with the animals. 

 

Folding them gently to the side, I pull a neat package from Narcissa closer to me and unwrap it in the same manner, saving the wrapping paper. I find some rare potions books I’ve been looking for, ones that Dad has seen copies of, but not the entire script like this. These must have taken quite a few connections and strings pulled, and I feel my stomach warm as I smile, Narcissa’s gesture is very kind. I take another moment to scan through some random pages I flip to, before forcing myself to set them down to read from the beginning later. 

 

I notice a smaller package in the same refined wrapping that seems to scream ‘Malfoy’, and I pull it closer to find a smaller note attached to this one, different from her simple Christmas note on the other. Before I open the present I read the note, short but interesting.

 

‘ _ Happy Christmas again, Harry. I will see you soon as we have discussed.  _

_ This gift is special, for a very particular reason. It has charms and spells on it, both to keep you safe and strengthen your magic, it will focus your mind which is helpful in potions and casting. This pendant will connect with the first witch or wizard to wear it, so please be sure to put it on first. It looks simple at the moment, it shall take shape once you have worn it for a single moon cycle and it will reflect your magical signature. It shouldn’t be taken off, but do not worry, this is accepted during quidditch, I checked. These pendants are rather rare, but I have sent a few titles which hold more information about the magical concept below, you can ask Madam Pince if she holds any of them. Do enjoy, there is much more to these pendants and I have given Draco one as well. They are a coming of age gift for young wizards of the older, more traditional families such as my own. I hold the traditions that help us, please do not is take this for a pureblood tradition. I shall explain more today, I hope you enjoy.’  _

 

The letter leaves me with more questions than answers, and I resolve to just wait for Narcissa to arrive this morning. It was a part of my gift to Draco, I know he misses her terribly and so Dad and I arranged for her to spend the day and evening here. I haven’t really decided between telling him just before she gets here or taking him completely by surprise. On the one hand, Draco likes to be composed and know things ahead of time so he can plan, plan and plan. But I also don’t really want to lose the shocked look on his face which is so fun to see. 

 

Opening the box further, I find a simple looking pendant, the chain silver and durable. The little silver metal necklace is unremarkable, but also probably one of the most expensive things I’ve owned. I love it.

 

Slipping it on over my pajamas, I familiarize myself with the heavy weight against my chest as Ikarus noses it curiously. Folding her letter and setting it to the side, I open the present from Blaise, finding a quidditch themed set of wizarding cards, with different combinations of games and all of their directions in the box. I read through a few, excited to try some of the strategy and gambling ones. He’s also given me some candy, and so has Hermione. 

 

Hermione has also sent a rather thorough planner for homework and studying, and I can see that Draco has gotten one as well. He is fascinated with his of course, mumbling under his breath about what colours he will sort his classes under. The two of them will have my life planned by the second pretty soon. The other part of her gift is rather ingenious and makes me chuckle, I’d seen her with some muggle graphing paper and asked for extra to pass astronomy. The paper is such a simple tool I’ never thought twice about with the Dursleys, but it makes charting stars ten times easier. 

 

Pansy has sent yet another inappropriate book on ‘The wonders of wizards’ which would sound like an innocent novel if not for the nude wizards on the front. Why she thinks I would be interested in such a book is beyond me, I burned the last one. She also sent some candy, so I suppose I can forgive her. 

 

The Weasleys have knitted me a sweater, and I grin at the soft dark green fabric with a silver H stitched to the front. Draco wears mine far more than he’d ever admit, and I am getting a bit big for my last one. I laugh at Fred and George’s christmas note which consists of a single wizard photograph of their family, the twins grinning as fireworks explode all around what looks like the kitchen, signing ‘merry christmas!’ and curse words in the air. 

 

Dad has given me a kit of rare potions ingredients, things that are rather hard to get a hold of like innards of the almost extinct three-snout silver dragon, or the eyelashes of a mermaid. I read through a list of things these ingredients are commonly used for, and some of the more complicated potions catch my eye. I have to set them down when Blaise complains that the eyeballs of flax worms are watching him. 

 

Dad has also gotten me things like new shoes and clothes, and a new bookbag since mine was rather worn. He fights to give me these things regularly, but I insist that the things I have are fine and perfectly up to my standards even if he thinks I look raggedy. I suppose if I argue over the expensive shoes even Draco can’t criticise or the book bag that seems to be custom charmed, he’ll just say that they are presents and I can’t deny gifts. I remind myself to thank him extra, as Draco pushes his gift towards me, impatient for me to open it. He has torn through his sizeable pile, and he only has my gift left to open. 

 

“Hurry up, we’ll open them together.” he says, and I nod, settling the gift in front of me. We open them at the same time, though he has his things out before I’ve even finished folding the wrapping paper. 

 

I watch his face carefully as he looks over the gifts, his expression naturally controlled as he sees fit. After a minute of bated breath, he looks back at me, silver eyes unusually bright. Before I can brace myself he throws his arms around my shoulders, knocking me back with a fierce hug, something that is rare and oh so special from the careful, well mannered boy. 

 

Hugging him back, I let out a little breath or relief, he must have liked them then. Slowly sitting back up, he has a soft grin on his face, and I can’t help but grin back. 

 

Along with the hair kit, which was partially a joke though he’ll use every bit of it, I have given him some drawings I’ve made with the art supplies he and dad have given to me since the summer. I haven’t had much opportunity to draw, but there were a few, all of Draco, which I do when he’s reading or studying and I have nothing to entertain myself. Pansy teased the hell out of me about my lack of variety when it comes to subject, but I was rather proud of them so I figured I’d give them to him. This was the portion of the gift I was worried about him thinking of as stupid, so I also purchased something else.

 

From a charmed jewelry shop, I’d ordered him a ring. It looks similar to the Malfoy ring that he’s shown me, which he says is meant for him on his fourteenth birthday as the heir. With it, he says, comes the responsibility of being the Malfoy son. 

 

Instead of the snake-like crest that is on Lucius’ family ring, this has curling tendrils of silver holding the black stone carefully in place, with his initials carved into the lower curve just under the stone. On the inside is Narcissa’s family crest instead, and the ring will grow with him, possibly changing shape in small ways. The ring is elegant, and masculine and powerful, and everything he wants his name to become rather than the name of his father. 

 

It has charms, similar to Narcissa’s pendants, for protection and focus and magical power. All of this is explained in a letter fit into the case with the ring, and Draco begins reading it while the common room opens, and I look up to see the familiar form of Narcissa Malfoy in shimmery silver robes, Dad walking next to her in his usual black. 

 

Draco is still reading, so I roll my eyes, nudging him with my foot. He looks up, the familiar frown on his face saved for when I interrupt his reading, until I nod towards his mother and he is off the ground and hugging her in a second. She hugs him back, the familiar common room deemed a safe enough place to let go of some Malfoy reservation.

 

“What are you doing here? You’re alright? Father hasn’t tried anything, has he? Has anything changed with the lawyers?” he asks in a rush, pulling back to look over her face for any signs of distress. She chuckles at his enthusiasm, winking towards me as Dad finds a spot in one of the armchairs behind me. I thank him for the presents to which he waves a hand at, but his smile belies his happiness that I liked my presents. 

 

“Did you open yours?” I ask, and he shakes his head no. 

 

“I was meeting Narcissa at the gates, she prefers not to floo right now.” he answers, and I nod looking back to the pair. Opening some of my candy, I pop a chocolate in my mouth while Dad mutters about spoiling my breakfast.

 

“We have plenty of time to talk about all of those things, right now I want to have some Christmas breakfast. Would you boys prefer eating in Severus’ quarters or in the Great Hall?” she asks, and I struggle to swallow the sticky chocolate so that I can answer. Waving my hand at Draco, he nods, answering for both of us.

 

“Harry says Severus’ quarters, i’m fine with either.” he says, and Narcissa cocks an eyebrow.

 

“Have you two taken up sign language as well as parseltongue then?” she teases, a note of genuine suspicion in her tone.

 

“No, he waved his hand a certain way mother, it was a clear answer. Now, has Father made any changes in his plans for court?” Draco asks, and Narcissa sighs, looking more tired than agitated with her son. 

 

“Draco, I promise to tell you everything. First, I really do want some food. Did you boys get your gifts?” she asks, and I nod, thanking her. Draco thanks her as well, hugging her tightly once more.

 

“Speaking of gifts, Draco, I am your gift from Harry. It was his idea to invite me here.” Narcissa says, and I flush a bit, suddenly aware of Draco’s eyes on me. 

 

“Really?” he asks, more towards me than Narcissa. I nod, looking at my hands and trying to figure out why I am blushing so hard over such a simple thing. 

 

“ _ Thank you, it means a lot to me.”  _ he says, and I feel an odd warmth at the genuine tone of his voice. Draco so rarely speaks this way, openly and with so much feeling. 

 

“ _ I know you missed her.”  _ I respond, and we all stand to walk towards Dad’s quarters. Narcissa invites Blaise as well, and he smiles a little, clearly relieved he didn’t have to eat breakfast alone this morning. 

 

While Narcissa and Dad chat ahead of us, I convince Ikarus to let Blaise hold him. The snake complains as much as possible until we stop in front of the entrance, and then he departs to explore Dad’s rooms with Duchess. 

 

“I swear, he’ll curl up to any warm body in the middle of the night with no warning and no concern for whatever human he’s using, but he won’t let people hold him for five minutes.” I grumble, finding a seat at the dining table where house elves have begun to gather food. Shiny fruit and syrups topping fluffy pancakes and waffles are piled onto plates, some drizzled in chocolate. Bacon, sausage, and eggs in every style are heating in charmed plates near pitchers of juices and coffee. Staring hungrily at the food, I try to get a little of everything on my plate and end up going for second to make it happen. 

 

Before long I've eaten so much I’m ready to burst, and the food pile has a sizable dent in it considering the food keeps reappearing. Draco is still gently grazing, eating at what he calls ‘a polite pace’. He’s also having some coffee, something I know he’ll get addicted to since the house elves offer it for students year round. Some of the older students have a silent agreement that they won’t talk to one another until they’ve had their morning cup of coffee, and I am not looking forward to more morning routine. 

 

While Narcissa and Dad seem to be wrapping up the conversation they are having, Draco is arguing with Ikarus as I half listen to each conversation. 

 

“ _ I don’t lie!”  _ Draco gasps, as Ikarus gives him a rather unimpressed look for a snake.

 

_ “Yes you do, must I remind you of your skewed impressions of your peers?”  _ Draco’s cheeks seem to colour, and my interest is a little more peaked.

 

_ “That is a matter of perception, not truth.”  _

 

_ “Okay, well for future reference ‘intense emerald’ is different from regular green, and messy hair is not something to fawn over.”  _ what on earth are they arguing over now? Draco often dislikes Ikarus’ manner of calling things out the way he sees them, much like his distaste for my doing the same thing, so the two argue quite often. 

 

_ “I do not fawn.”  _ Draco snaps, looking insulted at the mere idea.

 

_ “Interesting, what word would you use then?” _ he taunts, as Dad clears his throat gathering all of our attention. 

 

“Narcissa? I think we had best discuss Lucius now.” he prompts, and Draco sits up a little straighter, his eyes on his mother as I squeeze his hand under the table. He doesn’t like to discuss his father, even with me, yet I know he hates being left out of the loop and worrying for his mother. 

 

“Well, he has made an official offer. Right now we are still discussing things amongst private lawyers and consultants, though I know he intends to take things to the ministry if we can’t come to an agreement. This will most likely last years if we bring the ministry into it, between the two of us I am truly not sure who has the upper hand with high up connections.” she says, and I can feel my heart sink a little. Now that Draco’s father is back, I don’t want half of his school career to be filled with court dates and battles of custody. 

 

Draco doesn’t interrupt, but allows her the pause in speaking as she collects herself She clearly doesn’t like sharing this with her son, but knows that it’s best if he isn’t in the dark. 

 

“There are many details over which we are both painstakingly fighting for, though there are some main things that are crucial. The Manor, the fortune, the marriage, and you.” she says, and I can feel goosebumps run over the back of my neck. I hardly know Lucius, and yet from the relationship I know he has with Draco and from the things I have heard, I’d rather live with the Dursleys my entire life than have him in that man’s care. 

 

“He is intent on keeping all of these, I want nothing more than a divorce and sole custody of you. The split will be messy either way, I am independently wealthy though it is hard to take vaults apart and clear up inheritances rather than throwing it all together after a marriage. He wants to raise you, with little to no visitation from me, and he wants all of the fortune and the Manor to go into your name once you are of age.” she says, taking Draco’s hand in her’s across the table and inhaling. 

 

“Draco, I want to give you all of the jewels and money in that vault, and I want you to have your childhood home and for us to live untouched by him, but I don’t see how I can win any of those things without letting him raise you. And that will happen only when I am dead.” she promises, and Draco nods. He seems to mull things over for a moment, eyes on his hand in her’s.

 

“Has he given a timeline for any of this? Made any threats we need to think of?” he asks, and I am a little surprised at how calm and firm his voice is. While I expect nothing less from this amazing boy, I can’t imagine I would be as collected in such circumstances. 

 

“He has given me until the summer solstice to agree to his deal or make one of my own, and we will continue dealing amongst ourselves until that point. If we are not in agreement by then he will be bringing matters to the ministry.” she says, and Draco nods. I may still be with the Dursley’s at that point, for the six weeks Dumbledore still refuses to lift. 

 

I want to offer him comfort, but all I can do is squeeze his hand and resolve to comfort him later as he discusses possible deals Narcissa can pose that would keep them in the clear but hold Lucius off. 

 

“Oh, I forgot to say, he is also facing a few fines and minor charges for having dark artifacts in the Manor. I am staying in a lovely wizarding gated community right now, the one I’d mentioned in the letters, so luckily none of this could be tied to me though he tried to blame me at first. It was Arthur Weasley that caught him, I am considering writing a thank you letter. He found some suspicious things that Lucius had written as well, vague outlines of a plan that they couldn’t prove he had ever seriously put into action.” she says.  

 

“Really? Do you know what they found?” Draco queries, but she shakes her head no.   
  


“I just know that there were a few books among the mix, but they didn’t say what else he had. Now, I’d like to explore the castle some while I am able to visit, dear. First, I’d like to see if they have expanded on the library.” she says, elegantly sweeping from her chair, and seeming to lift the mood a little with her lighter tone. 

 

Draco and I follow, and I realize once we are in the hall and chatting that neither of us bothered to untangle our hands and neither of our parents decided to mention it. 

 

Holding my fingers a little tighter, I allow myself to revel a bit in the nice feeling of holding  _ the  _ Draco Malfoy’s hand in front of others, where he would usually hide any trace of emotion or vulnerability. In contrast to what the notion would seem to be, such as sappy or weak, it feels oddly empowering.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentines Day goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little short but hopefully pretty entertaining. Next one coming soon! Enjoy!

“This is an absolute mess.” Draco decides, looking around in horror at the Great Hall. Small dwarf looking men are walking amongst the students, dressed only in white cloth diapers and holding cupid’s bows, singing rhymes and delivering cheesy valentines. 

 

It i clear who began all of this when we look to the head table to find Lockhart in a ghastly set of pink robes, a small group of dwarves gathered in front of him and trying to deliver their valentines all at once. 

 

“This is ridiculous.” Draco mumbles, walking towards our table and glaring at a few dwarves and students who are in his way. It’s rather amusing watching him in a bad mood, but Slytherins offer a united front so I do my best to match his expression. 

 

“You’re taking up coffee then?” I ask as Draco pours himself a cup of the strong smelling liquid, stirring in a bit of cream. 

 

“I’m already taller than you, and if it stunts my growth there are potions I can take.” he shrugs, and I nod. Before I can ask about the Charms essay we have due today, Ikarus pokes his head from under my collar, hissing in my ear.

 

“ _ A dwarf is coming, I can bite him if you want.”  _ he says, and I groan. I don’t need a poisoned dwarf on my hands, but I also don’t want to deal with this. Draco has a stupid smirk on his face which tells me he heard Ikarus as well.

 

“ _ Distract him.”  _ I hiss back, and Draco nods as we stand to leave quickly. We are almost to the front doors when a Ravenclaw girl shrieks “Snake!” 

 

“Shit.” I curse as students begin to jump up, blocking our shot to the door. If it had some a second later-

 

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!” the dwarf yells over the panic, his squeaky voice the last thing I want to hear as a girl knocks into me and sends my bag flying. 

 

I really should have thought this through. Because now, my things are all over the floor, the dwarf is clearing his throat to bloody sing to me in front of everyone, and I have to get Ikarus out of here before the staff gets to him or someone hexes him. 

 

“ _ Ikarus!”  _ I say loudly, unable to really yell in Parselmouth. Nevertheless, the language has students halting and staring at me in silence, some angry while others look scared. The snake looks over to me, sliding out of reach of everyone else and stopping at my feet. 

 

_ “Go outside, hunt for a while. Just get somewhere safe, I’ll meet you back in the dorms.”  _ I say, and he rubs against my leg as he slithers out of the hall, at a speed that no non-magical snake could manage. 

 

As a furious McGonagall makes her way towards us, Dad and Dumbledore rising as well, the now silent hall gives the dwarf in front of me the opportunity of a lifetime, one he chooses to take.

 

“ _ His eyes are as green as a  _ [ _ fresh pickled toad _ ](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Toad) _ , _

_ His hair is as dark as a blackboard. _

_ I wish he was mine, he's truly divine, _

_ the hero who conquered the  _ [ _ Dark Lord _ ](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Tom_Riddle) _. _ " it screams, the tune hardly discernable from the volume he delivers it. I am blushing more than I would like to admit, but McGonagall is almost here so I have to do something. Before I can begin to defuse the situation, I see Ron Weasley out of the corner of my eye trying to pick up the diary from the bathroom, which is now covered in ink from my smashed ink well.

 

“Hey! Get away from my stuff!” I yell, and Ron backs off, glaring at me. With a wave of his wand, Draco has all of my things gathered back up, and he is giving pretty much everyone the glare of a lifetime. Handing me the bag, I shoulder it just as McGonagall is upon us. 

 

“ _ Silencio!  _ To the headmaster’s office, now.” She silences both of us, and I share a look with Draco before we turn to follow her out of the great hall. The walk is silent, since she won’t speak and we physically can’t. I can hear Dad and Dumbledore follow us after calming the students and returning the Hall to it’s chatter. The statue guarding Dumbledore’s office moves once McGonagall gives the password, and she turns back to us before walking inside.

 

“I want to speak to Mr. Malfoy first. Professor Snape will stand here with you, and I trust that you will not utter a word until I lift the spell off of your myself.” she says briskly, and Dad frowns at her, but doesn’t argue. Clearly he has faith that she won’t find us guilty, since he hasn’t begun to do damage control. Dad doesn’t approve of rule breaking, and I’ll no doubt be getting in trouble later, but he also isn’t going to let me get Ikarus taken away. 

 

It’s probably best she not find out that Ikarus was the snake I am allowed to have, since I know she’ll take him away saying I can’t keep him under control. It’s best to say that the snake was a stray, and I simply told him to leave. I can only hope that Draco’s story matches mine, since I can’t speak to tell him anything before he disappears up the staircase with McGonagall. 

 

The wait isn’t long, and soon he is appearing with yet another silencing charm and a glare. McGonagall instructs Dad to lift the silencing charm once I am upstairs, and he nods. Following her, the ride up the swirling staircase is almost comical with the sullen tension in the air as we spin up a golden spiral staircase. 

 

Dumbledore looks cheerful sitting at his desk, his fingers propped against each other on the desk as he watches McGonagall point silently to one of the armchairs in front of us. Sitting down, she lifts the charm and I consider what wise ass comment would get me in the least amount of trouble. 

 

“Now, tell me exactly what you said to that snake, Mr. Potter.” she says, and I can hear the true anger in her voice. I suppose she still thinks I am guilty and responsible for the attacks, which I can understand would piss her off. She probably thinks I told Ikarus to bite off someone’s head or something. 

 

“I told the snake to leave, without hurting anyone. I don’t remember the exact words Professor, I was trying to help in the moment.” I say, holding eye contact and using a vague hand motion. Usually liars will keep their hands still, look away, or fidget. 

 

I just can’t have her using Veritaserum on me. I won’t lose Ikarus, and I know it was a stupid thing to tell him to leave my side. 

 

“Minerva, I believe his words match up with Mister Malfoy’s. The snake also seemed to follow such instructions.” Dumbledore says, and I can’t help the slight eyebrow raise, why is he so firmly on my side? I’d think that it would take longer than this to get out of trouble, but I suppose I should be happy that Draco and I had the same idea.

 

“Well then. I suppose that is all, Mr. Potter. However, I must ask you to let a staff member handle the next creature to meander through these halls, whether you can talk to it or not.” she says, and I nod. 

 

Really, she let me off easy. I can’t tell if she hates me and doesn't see it worth punishing me, or if it’s some weird tough love thing. Either way, it’s beginning to bother me how often I look over to find her watching me with a stern gaze. 

 

Walking out, I find Draco and Dad speaking quietly, but at a slow pace which hints that they aren’t talking about anything too important. Professor McGonagall stayed upstairs in the office to talk with Dumbledore, so we turn to walk back in the direction of the Charms class, since Dad has this period free for grading. 

 

“Neither of you are in trouble with the Headmaster, but I am not happy with your actions. You put yourselves and Ikarus in danger of a mis fired hex from a scared student, and you could have gotten him banned. I can’t punish Draco, but Harry, you are grounded for the next two weekends. You will come to my chambers friday evening and leave sunday morning. Draco, if you decide to visit you will need to be under the same restrictions.” he says, and I nod, trying to contain my sigh. I know that having a parent means consequences, along with all of the good stuff like having someone who cares about you, and I really shouldn’t have told Ikarus to distract someone when he has such a flair for dramatics. 

 

“I’m sorry Dad.” I say, meaning every word. When Ikarus gets back I’ll have to conjure a large rat or another treat. 

 

“Get to class. I’ll see you both at lunch.” he says, tone a little lighter than before. Nodding, I follow Draco towards the Charms room, and I groan inwardly at having to walk in late after the debacle in the Great hall. 

 

Walking in, I take Draco’s lead and hold my head high, looking every inch an unfazed Slytherin as I can. Professor Flitwick doesn’t stop his lecture, but kids turn and begin to whisper as we take our seats amongst the Slytherin side of the classroom. Pansy slides us notes for the time we missed, and Draco dutifully begins his diligent notes as I begin to doodle.

 

“ _ I’m sorry about earlier.”  _ he says as we stand for the practical portion of the class.

 

_ “What? Why? I’m the one who messed up.”  _ I say, pointing my wand and trying to use a strengthening charm. It only works on inanimate objects, and it’s much more difficult than the cushioning charm.

 

_ “I may have a confession to make.”  _ he says, pointedly focusing on the pillow he’s trying to strengthen.

 

_ “What did you do?”  _ I ask, stomach going a bit odd.

 

_ “You know the valentine song thing the dwarf had to deliver?”  _

 

_ “Draco, if you’re saying-”  _ he cuts me off, rushing to make sure I know he didn’t send the song.

 

_ “I convinced the youngest Weasley, the girl, that it would be a good idea.”  _ he looks like he is on the verge of laughter, whether he is apologizing or not, he still thinks it’s pretty funny.

 

_ “Poor girl. Does she know I’m bent?”  _

 

_ “I don’t think so, idiot. I thought only your closest friends knew.”  _ he rolls his eyes.

 

_ “Fair point. Are you going to hang out with me during the grounding?”  _

 

_ “Duh. That way it’ll be like we’re having a normal weekend, only without you dragging me into social situations.”  _ poking me in the side, I send him a genuine smile. These next few weekends would have sucked, but now they might actually be kind of fun. And I know that Dad isn’t a fool, he knows that this won’t be too harsh a punishment, so he must have plans for us to do some chore work while we’re there or something. 

 

_ “Thanks.”  _ he looks away, though by now I know the difference between a Draco sneer and a Draco-feels-feelings-make-it-stop expression. 

  
_ “Whatever.”  _ Smiling even bigger, I try the charm again. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry writes in the diary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

“Ah, I did wonder for the slimmest moment whether you would be taking up this grounding with Harry, Draco. I don’t think I have seen you two apart since the first year here. Come in, then.” Dad says on friday evening, and I follow Draco inside with my bag slung over my shoulder. 

 

“I’m hungry. Do we have any food?” I ask, setting my stuff down on the couch and walking back into the kitchen. Dad has tea brewed, but he raises an eyebrow when i ask for food. 

 

“Dinner ended no more than ten minutes ago.” he says, sliding two mugs of tea over to me so I can make them how Draco and I like it. Draco walks in a moment later, Ikarus twined around his arm and Duchess in her usual spot draped over his shoulder, large yellow eyes scanning the room. 

 

“I’m a growing boy.” I shrug, and Draco rolls his eyes.

 

“ _ Have you figured out the book yet considering you’ve spent all dinner looking at it?”  _ Draco asks, nodding his thanks as i slide hs tea over. 

 

_ “No. I don’t get it, it was covered in ink when everything spilled in the Great Hall.”  _ I answer, and he raises his eyebrows.

 

_ “Well, try putting more ink on it, like write in it.” _ he says, and I nod. That makes sense, but I don’t know what I would write to trigger some sort of spell.

 

“You know, it is quite rude to speak a language only you understand in the company of another. Especially when said language brought you here.” Dad says, sipping his tea so we only see his raised eyebrows.

 

“Sorry.” we chorus, and he nods. Setting his mug down on the counter, he begins to go over the weekend.

 

“Well, I’ll be here all weekend apart from mealtimes, when I have to be in the Great Hall, and a meeting with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. I’ll be here sunday for dinner, like usual, but I have a lot of grading to get done so please do stay mindful.” he says, and I nod. We were only really planning to figure out the book and study since there is a Transfiguration evaluation next week so that McGonagall has and idea of what we need to go over again before exams. 

 

“Okay. Where should we sleep?” I ask, and he nods to the living room. 

 

“I will transfigure the couches into beds for you two, and please keep it quiet after nine. Like I said, I have a meeting tomorrow that is very important.” he says, and i look up, a little more intrigued.

 

“What is the meeting about?” I ask, and he purses his lips, clearly struggling over whether or not to tell me. 

 

“It is about you, and the requirement of your summer stay with your other relatives.” he says, and I frown, looking back down at my tea.

 

“Oh. I thought that was non-negotiable.” I say, keeping my voice trained to sound nonchalant. It probably would have worked on anyone but these two, since they know me so well.

 

“I don’t believe it wise to use a blood protection if you’re at risk of starvation and emotional abuse because of it. Dumbledore fears the opposite and wishes to extend the required amount of time you stay with them.” my head shoot up at that, and I try not to glare at him but I need something to be angry at. He can’t do that, the old man has so much control but he has yet to show me any reason or example of it working. 

 

“Fine. I don’t care.” I say, looking back at my glass. Nobody speaks, and I finally stand to retrieve the book and try writing in it. Sitting in the corner of the couch, I can hear Draco and Dad talking in the kitchen, their voices muffled, and I grit my teeth. 

 

I can’t find it in me to be upset, or rather I’m so angry that it’s almost numbing. I feel oddly blank, and cruel in a sense that I can’t find it in me to care whether anyone gets hurt, including myself. This is all Dumbledore’s fault.

 

Dipping my quill in ink, I open the blank book to one of the first pages, drawing a blank as to what I should say. Shrugging, I press the sharp tip of the quill to the paper, black ink leaking out as I move it across the page.

 

**Hi, my name is Harry Potter.**

 

Watching the ink, it looks like it is thinning until suddenly it falls right through the paper, sinking in without a trace on any of the pages behind it. As quickly as it left, the ink returns taking shape in another handwriting and different words. The book seems to come to life in my hands, and I feel an odd connection with the diary. It calls for me to sink into it, it seems to soothe me. 

 

**Hello, Harry. My name is Tom Riddle.**

 

The words fade away much as mine had done, so I decide to write once more. I’ve never heard the name, at least not from anywhere I can pinpoint. Deciding to breach the topic on everyone’s minds lately, I write out my question quickly before worrying if my handwriting has to stay neat. 

 

**Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?**

 

My breath is held as I wait for his answer, which is a bit short but intriguing nonetheless. 

 

**Yes.**

 

It’s a bit rude, but I don’t know if I’m talking to a book or a person or a damn ghost. I can’t find it in me to care at this point.

 

**Can you tell me?**

 

This reply comes just as short, and I sag in disappointment. 

**No.**

 

However, another message blooms just as the ‘no’ disappears. 

 

**But I can show you.**

 

Before I can grab ahold of anything, I feel as though my stomach is dropping much like when I dive on my broom, and I am falling forwards as the gravity shifts until I feel like I’m standing upright once more. 

 

Looking around, I gather that I’m in the castle, near the second floor bathroom. Teachers are gathered in small groups down the hall, the numbers growing until they are all grouped in front of the bathroom door. Watching, it seems as if it’s a different time, older. The clothing is different, the teachers I recognize have a younger air about them. 

 

Looking to my left, I am standing next to a handsome boy who looks to be in about fifth year, dressed in slytherin robes. His hair a black, his skin pale as he surveys the scene in front of him with empty black eyes. He must be in his last few years here, a prefects badge gleams on his chest. 

 

“Tom.” the voice behind us is familiar, though I’ve never heard the suspicion so directly as if he is accusing the boy next to me. From what I can tell this is a memory, and nobody can see or hear me. 

 

Turning as the boy, Tom, turns I see a much younger Albus Dumbledore, with less gray and far less wrinkles. He is wearing teacher’s robes in a dark purple, and his face is grave.

 

“You shouldn’t be out this late, Tom.” Dumbledore says, and I frown at the foreboding warning in his tone. Tom must have heard it as well, since he flashes a soothing smile that is anything but friendly. 

 

“Professor. I was only wondering what this means, you see. Are the rumors true?” he asks, and his voice makes me shudder a bit. How can someone so young sound as though they have secrets that could kill?

 

“Yes, I am afraid they are Tom.” Dumbledore says, sounding much like he does in the present. 

 

“Even about the school shutting down? They can’t close Hogwarts, sir. Some have nowhere else to go.” Tom says, and I can tell he has plenty of experience controlling his tone and expression. It’s something all Slytherins perfect eventually, but I am not sure if the distress on his face cracking through is genuine or  ploy for Dumbledore's pity. Tom seems clever enough to pull off the latter. 

 

“I am sorry Tom, but we can’t allow another attack. A muggleborn was murdered, you understand, don’t you?” Dumbledore asks, clearly challenging Tom to answer. He must be pureblood prejudiced then, which isn’t a surprise for the time setting. It’s still a problem today. 

 

The news has my blood running cold. This obviously has something to do with the Chamber of secrets and the attacks happening in the present otherwise Tom wouldn’t bother showing me. That means that the attacks in my time will most likely end up the same way; with a dead student and a closed school. 

 

“Sir, if they were to catch the student responsible, would the schools stay open?” Tom asks, his voice oddly blank. He must know something, but he seems as though he isn’t willing to play that card yet. 

 

“I suppose. Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?” Dumbledore asks, eyes boring into Tom’s. He is suspicious, and I imagine rightfully so, but he seems to trust this boy. 

 

“No, sir.” Tom says, the picture of innocence as he turns and walking the opposite direction from the bathroom, where a covered figure is being levitated out on a stretcher. Staring at the dead body under the thin white sheet, there is no blood. It must have been a lethal spell, leaving signs that appear in much different ways than muggle deaths. 

 

Turning back around, I hurry to follow Tom through the halls and into the dungeons of the castle. Passing the Slytherin common room, I wonder if they are in a different place in his time when he stops in front of an old broom cupboard door. Pulling out his wand, he uses no words to unlock the door, his magic strong and his focus more so. 

 

He yanks the door open, a muggle way of doing things which is odd since most wizards prefer the spell that bangs the door open with sparks. I can understand the satisfaction of finding something the muggle way, when I see he has caught a hunched figure doing something in the closet. 

 

“Hagrid. It is time to turn yourself in. I know your beast has been behind these attacks, it has killed someone!” Tom says, and I gasp, looking over his shoulder at a teenage Hagrid. Around my age if I can tell, no more than thirteen even with his giant frame. He looks scared, and in his hands is a wriggling mass of black fur and legs. 

 

Hagrid has never felt a healthy fear of deadly creatures, but this doesn’t add up. Even as a boy, he couldn’t of let a classmate die at the hands of his pet. Yet this matches up with what Narcissa said as well.

 

“No! Aragog didn’t do it! I swear, he’s never been out of this closet!” he says, voice choked with tears. Tom’s face does not change, as he hauls Hagrid off of the floor with no more than a hand, something he couldn’t have done without magic. 

 

“You’ll be expelled for this, Hagrid.” he says, a small smile finding its way across his face as his eyes show the first emotion I’ve seen in them; mirth.

 

Yanked roughly back into the present, Draco and Dad are just coming out of the kitchen still speaking quietly and not yet looking into my corner of the room. Catching my breath, I debate whether or not I should tell them, when Draco looks up and sees the book in my hands. 

 

“ _ Did you write in it _ ?” he asks, and Dad looks over curiously.

 

“ _ Yes. It didn’t work.”  _ I say, planning to tell him when I get my mind around it. 

  
For now, I’m going to shove the book in my trunk and pretend that none of it happened. 


End file.
